Previously on Defiance…
"No, professor. I am not doing it because of petty vengeance. I am doing it, because it is necessary."
"I do not agree with you, my boy."
"You don't. You don't have to agree with me, you don't have to like me, but you have to work with me to end this parasite for now and forever." He stood up from the chair, banging his palms on the table. "Now, are you going to help do this or not?"
Dumbledore sighed. "What is your plan?"
Two weeks later…
"CRUCIO!"
Rudolphus Lestrange lay on the floor, struggling in pain as the Cruciatus burnt his nerves raw, sending him into a level of agony that he had not experienced over a decade. The funny thing was, the person who was cruciating him was his own wife, who was cackling madly, while the dark lord simply sat on his throne, a worried expression etched on his face.
"Enough Bella!" The dark lord ordered. Bellatrix turned towards her lord and looked at him with puppy-dog eyes, "a little more, my Master? Perhaps for luck?"
The dark lord simply smirked. "Not now, Bella. We need him. If he behaves rudely again, you have my permission to kill him."
Bellatrix licked her lips savagely as she rendered him incapacitated, stopping the Cruciatus as Rudolphus lay on the floor. Placing her wand back, she walked up, only to sit beside her Lord.
"Seven deaths! Seven of my precious men dead! Who is to be held responsible for this?"
Everyone looked around. In the past two weeks, someone had been assassinating senior members of the dark lord's council. While they were not exactly the inner circle, but they were still, pretty high up on the list. It seemed that someone held a lot of rage against the death eaters, and was assassinating each and every one of them in diabolical fashion.
Thomas Avery, Caractacus Flint and his son Marcus, and Leonard Mulciber. Chopped into pieces using severing curses. The ironic fact was that Avery and Flint were notorious for killing people using severing curses in the first war.
Walden Mcnair, the executioner for magical creatures at the Ministry. Beheaded inside his own room.
Thomas Jugson, Vincent Crabbe Senior and Anthony Fischer- burned alive. Crabbe Senior, despite being a pathetic failure at other magics, had an astonishing capability to control Fiendfyre. Jugson and Fischer were his closest friends.
Disturbingly poetic deaths.
The strange thing was, none of the people were out in any vulnerable situations. The wards did not even register any kind of activity, almost as if someone had miraculously either deactivated them before the attack and erected them later….
Or, the assassin was innately unaffected by wards.
The dark lord couldn't decide which was more disturbing. The fact about the wards reminded him about the recent attack on Nurmengard which had killed off the prisoners of the entire second floor, including the dark lord Grindelwald. It was a misfortune. He had planned an attack on Nurmengard after Phase 2 was successful- an army of the most dangerous murderers of Magical Europe sounded very formidable. However, it seemed as if someone had seen it coming, and destroyed that chance as well. It was almost lucky that the treaty with the vampires had been completed before Avery's unfortunate death. Given how things were going, he could almost sense that Greyback could be attacked any moment. Perhaps he should provide some security to the werewolf-after all, the wolf would make sure that the werewolves would join him.
Who could it be? It couldn't be Albus Dumbledore; he is too 'Light' for this. It couldn't be Sirius Black. He simply lacked the power and the skill. Harry Potter wasn't here. He was away at the Transfiguration Master's Guild. Besides, the boy wasn't someone who could kill so cruelly.
Who could it be?
The wards of the ancient manor flared. Someone had stepped inside his property. Someone magical. Could it be-
He could hear the steps as they came closer to his throne. In the darkness, the person wasn't visible to his eyes, but his magical senses told him that whoever it was, the person was extraordinarily powerful, almost as much as he was. His fingers slowly snaked towards his faithful yew wand.
"Lord Voldemort." The man replied. He had a frail form, but that did nothing to hide the roaring magical power that was rolling off him. "We meet at last."
"Who are you?" The dark lord asked slowly.
"You are sitting on my throne… and you are asking me, who am I?"
The dark lord's eyes widened as the man walked into the Light, his face distinctly visible as the dark lord let out his surprise in the form of a whisper. "Gellert… Grindelwald?"
Two hours later…
Tom Riddle had never thought that life could have gotten so complex. It had been much more simple before Grindelwald, who was supposed to be dead, but had turned out to be very much alive and kicking, had come in knocking for him and presented him a most surprising proposition. One that both scared him and made him exhilarated at the same time.
"Let me get things straight." The dark lord mused, as the ex-dark lord sat on a transfigured chair in front of him. "You were broken out of prison after over fifty years by someone whom you refuse to name-"
"I am sworn to secrecy on my existence." Gellert snapped.
"Right, so you refuse to name the intruder on various reasons, and now you are here to offer your aid in magic to me, in return of a most unusual request." He stared at the ex-dark lord in the eye. "A horcrux, of my own, chained to you by necromancy."
"Yes."
"While I would like to ask you how you knew about my… artifacts, but I find-"
"Oh shut up Riddle," Gellert snapped. "Don't try to go all dark lord-ish on me. I am a necromancer, and for all your knowledge, you are but a puny kid in front of me when it comes to necromancy. There is only one way by which you could resurrect yourself after getting blown off to pieces by a little toddler-" he ignored the red in Voldemort's eyes- "—and are now standing in front of me in a body that is clearly a product of a resurrection ritual."
The dark lord held his control over his rising anger. "And why exactly would you need a horcrux chained to you?"
Gellert sneered. "None of your business."
"How about you answer the question or I flay you alive?" Voldemort threatened.
Gellert sneered. "Yes, I suspected that you would. But consider this, Tom Riddle, I am old, but I am powerful. It is possible that your forces might stand against me, and even defeat me, but will you and your forces go completely unhurt by this? Given how I have heard about your followers getting snuffed right and left, are you in a position to lose more? Will all of your followers, some of whose families had pledged assistance to me, fight for you against me? What is to stop me from, say…. Burning this entire manor to ash and setting a necromantic curse upon all of you?"
Voldemort gnashed his teeth.
"Fine." He hissed. "Fine, though you have to admit that it is my horcrux you are talking about. Surely, I deserve an answer?"
Gellert spat on the floor. Voldemort did not react.
"Something… someone is behind me. Searching and sniffing for me and my magic, wanting to drag my soul into Hell. To undo that, I need someone's horcrux deeply entrenched to me and my magic, enough to fool the hunter from snuffing the life out of me."
"Who is this… hunter?"
Gellert looked at him with disdain. "We necromancers do not speak of his name. Names have power, and should be used carefully."
"What else can you tell me?"
"Nothing else. I can teach you necromancy beyond what you have managed to scrub out from worthless teachers during your quest for the dark arts. In return, you will treat me with proper respect and give me a horcrux for my needs."
"Let's just say, that hypothetically, I refuse. What will you do?"
"Well… I can always go to Albus Dumbledore. We are old pals after all, and the old man knows a bit a little bit of necromancy and blood magic himself to be able to do something like that. If not him, then I could just go to the killer who is killing your men. Given how he is killing your followers in cold blood, I don't suppose making a horcrux would be too difficult for the person. Importantly, I would then become a powerful enemy against your forces. Would you rather have me do that?"
Voldemort had to admit. The man had a point. Grindelwald had him choosing between a rock and a hard place.
"Very well," he returned with slight hesitation. "Tell me what you need."
The dark lord had kept his word. The next day, he had asked Lucius Malfoy to bring back the diary he had given him to guard and value more than he valued his life. Understandably, he was beyond enraged when he had found that the other man had used his precious horcrux for settling a deal against Arthur Weasley, something that had later caused commotion at the school by opening the Chamber of Secrets and petrifying students. All of that was good, except the fact that Harry Potter had found it and by some way, destroyed the diary. He wondered how since there were only two things that could have done so- one being Fiendfyre and the other being basilisk venom. The second-year wasn't powerful enough to conjure Fiendfyre while killing the humongous basilisk was a thing of fiction, and he refused to believe that the second year could have done it. The fact that Pettigrew had supported Malfoy's statement hadn't irked him any less. Malfoy had had to suffer his personal Cruciatus over a prolonged length of time, much to Bella's enjoyment. The fact that Malfoy had not yet been able to assassinate Black did not help matters either.
The next thing he had done was to go for the locket which he had placed in the lake. Lucius Malfoy had to accompany him unwillingly, and had been force-fed the elixir of nightmares- a potion which caused the drinker to be tormented by his worst nightmares, and that had Lucius crying like a baby as he wept about how his magic was stolen by muggles, much to the dark lord's amusement. Said amusement had vaporized the moment he had picked up the locket and opened it, and found the little parchment inside it. The one that proclaimed something that had him almost destroying the entire cavern into pieces.
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
"FIENDFYRE!" The dark lord yelled, as massive bursts of cursed fire shot out of his wand, pushing down into the black waters which were actually some kind of potion very similar to the draught of living death, obliterating the hundreds of inferi sunk beneath them. The immense heat and light made the dark interiors shine like the sun, and between them, stood Lord Voldemort, his red eyes burning with frightening intensity and vengeance.
Regulus Black knew about his horcruxes. Regulus Black had taken his horcrux away, and in all possibility, now Sirius Black might know about them. He had to check them all. He had flown all over to the Gaunt Shack, and had been elated to learn that it was still safe. The same was true for the Cup he had kept in Bellatrix's Vault. There was no way to check up on the one he had stored inside the castle, but he hoped that it would be safe. Finally, there was Nagini, who would need to be protected more than ever. Knowing that the ring carried an unbreakable curse on it, he had decided to let it stay inside the shack while he had ordered Bellatrix to bring the Cup of Hufflepuff back from her vault. It would have to be a stealth mission, but thankfully the goblins held neutral ground in regards to wizard dealings and possessions.
The entire thing had gone without a hitch, especially since Malfoy was still alive and kicking. He had threatened to kill the man if he failed in the task this time. Lucius had stuttered and stammered- the effects of the elixir of nightmares had apparently done a number on the man, especially considering the hours he had spent writhing in agony under the Cruciatus curse.
"You now have what you wanted. It is now up to you to bind it to yourself."
Grindelwald looked at him with an amused expression. For someone who claimed to be the worst dark lord of history, Lord Voldemort was an amateur in many branches of obscure magics. His only advantage was his affinity to dark curses and his immense power, something that reminded him of Harry Potter. Then again, Voldemort had built a synthetic ritual-based body for himself, granting him extreme amounts of self-regeneration capabilities, which was enough to turn the tide of battle.
Though, I don't truly know what other powers Potter might be hiding. It would have been amusing if I had been able to share with Riddle about the plethora of powers that Potter wielded, along with the deadly magic he had at his command. Hopefully I will get front seats when Riddle gets to fight Potter finally, and considering the boy's resourcefulness, that day is going to be sooner than Riddle can anticipate.
He held up the Cup of Hufflepuff, rumored to have substantial healing powers in it. It was almost an insult that such a reverential item had been converted to such a foul abomination. In another life, he might have squeezed Riddle's throat out of anger that he had trashed such valuable artifacts and polluted them in such fashion. However, at this moment he needed his help, and self-preservation was more important than some ancient artifact, no matter how powerful.
"I will need to procure a proper environment to perform the ritual, and I will need some things." He stated.
"I will order Wormtail to get them for you." Voldemort answered. "Now, it is your turn to keep your word."
"Very well." Gellert sighed. "what do you want to know about?"
Lord Voldemort told him, and Gellert Grindelwald widened his eyebrows in shock. He only nodded silently as Lord Voldemort explained to him what exactly he required of him. Finally, he agreed to teach him what he wanted though he severely warned him that he would, in no way participate in the ritual, while in his own mind, there was one thought that kept on circulating, despite his powerful Occlumency shields.
Delusions of a lunatic.
"Let me be honest here, Voldemort." Gellert explained, "the ritual you are planning to do requires the practitioner to be completely honest with himself. And unfortunately, you are not such a person."
Tom titled his head as he gazed at the other man curiously.
"You have power, that much is correct, but power is not the only thing that matters. It is important that you understand this. You call yourself Voldemort, though at heart, you are Tom Marvolo Riddle. This form of... hypocrisy is exactly what prevents you from becoming the most powerful man you could become."
"There are no men like me." The dark lord challenged.
"There are always men like you." Gellert replied back. "Your soul is mutilated beyond repair using the darkest of magics, and here you are wanting to go further down the lane. I do not know what you have done previously in the field of ancient magics, but as far as evocation is considered, this dual form of yours will cause you to fail. Either you must be Voldemort forever, or Tom Riddle. You cannot be both."
"I am Lord Voldemort." The dark lord argued.
Gellert raised his hand. "Think again."
Voldemort did not reply.
"I have seen the fear in your eyes when I mentioned horcruxes in front of you. Evocation is an arte that can only be done by a God. God is all powerful. God is barbarian. God doesn't take sides. God does not fear. God does not bleed." He paused, "If you fear, you cannot be a God. If you cannot be a God, the powers that be shall never answer your call."
"You intend to perform evocation, which is essentially the temple of creation. If you evoke with the intent of nothing, then nothing is indeed what you will create. Understand this very well, and figure out what you truly need. Always remember, everything has a price. If the summoned entities are not happy with your offering, then they will take what they wish." He paused, staring into Voldemort's eyes.
"So tell me, Lord Voldemort, are you ready to lose everything you love only to make your wish come true? If so, we will continue discussing over the ritual."
For the next three weeks, no one had heard a word from the dark lord. All that they knew was that he had hidden himself away with Grindelwald and was performing some kind of ritual. In fact, it was so silent that had it not been for the fact that he occasionally ordered his followers to fetch him strange substances, one might have thought that he was dead. There had been many more killings of the death eaters and the official count so far was over twenty, and yet, the dark lord seemed to be completely disinterested. His followers had been ordered to go on with the respective tasks he had given them. Finally, on the twenty-third day since the ritual had begun, he walked out of the ritual room. The problem was, he was not alone.
Something very much akin to what seemed like a shadow levitated out alongside him. It was dark and malicious, and clung to the dark lord like a cloak all over him. Darkness was reeking all over him, magnifying his aura by multiple amounts. Gellert Grindelwald walked up behind him, slowly pacing towards the dark lord as he observed him.
"My lord?" Bellatrix offered.
The dark lord smiled. "The wait is over. It is time to bring war to them."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second-last chapter of the first segment of Defiance. The next chapter will serve as the end of the first part, followed by an intermission as I will be taking a little time break before I begin with the next part of Defiance. I know this is a short chapter, but the last and final one will be rather epic and I hope i will have it written by the next two days. You might get some answers, and some more questions, but those will be answered in the second segment of Defiance. Hopefully you guys are liking this tale, and well, allow me to say how pleasing it has been to find the number of following, favorites, and reviews growing every single day.
Thank you.