A/N: Do not go gentle into that good night.
This took a very long time to write, and rewrite, and I'm still not happy with it but I need to upload for you all. I appreciate all the good names for the Casino; you'll see whose got chosen at some point. Please do take a read of the ending A/N as I have something important to say.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter 17
With a triumphant expression on her face, the ravenette reached forward to grab the trophy by a golden serpent's neck.
The smile didn't drop with the tugging at her navel, as the world whipped by around her, squeezing in a familiar way; she had used plenty of portkeys before, and she certainly wasn't going to throw up in front of the public.
Her smile did disappear, however, when she was deposited in a place that definitely wasn't where she was supposed to be. Spinning around, one major thought flickered through her head.
'Oh bugger; Hermione's going to kill me.'
#####################################################
'Prioritise; need information,' replaced thoughts of concern for her girlfriend, and Jasmine spun on her heel once more, time seemingly slowing down as she put her mindscape to use. 'Position of Sun and horizon versus where it should be place me somewhere in middle England; Yorkshire maybe? Inconsequential detail.' Her sharp eyes picked out details of her location swiftly, eyeballing the unique points. 'Graveyard, old, dating back a long time with a few graves from each period, likely small village church graveyard.' Her attention moved to the largest and grandest memorial, which seemed relatively recent at perhaps a few decades old. 'Thomas Riddle, wife Mary Riddle, son Thomas Riddle…Voldemort's extended family, and they all died on the same day, the same year he let out the Basilisk for the first time. Verifies that it's Voldemort after me, probably here so he can kill me. Could be possessing anyone so assume any and all comers are hostile. Apparition?' she reached out her senses to move away from the place, 'nope, wards up, likely against anything that isn't a portkey.'
"Stupefy!" a voice called from the darkness, and acting upon instinct Jasmine leapt forwards and crouched against a headstone, watching as a jet of red light flew through where she used to be. 'Stunner, he wants me alive. Why? So he can gloat? No, he's not that stupid.'
"Come on out, Jasmine!" a second voice declared, more nasally and hoarse-sounding.
'Second assailant, odds in my favour decreasing,' the world stilled as she closed her eyes for a moment, visualising the scene of the Graveyard and walking around it, seeing her crouched self sitting behind the headstone. 'Action: could take invisibility guerrilla route and sneak around? Take too long to remove the cloak from my pouch, and my Disillusionment still isn't up to snuff. Next choice: wide area effect, don't need to see targets. Choices? Mostly explosive curses, few darker ones. Wait, am I still being viewed back at Hogwarts? No, scrying spells don't work over ward boundaries, so my arsenal isn't limited, but even so losing that advantage that they don't know that I know dark magic…'
"No, no, what you're limited to in offense doesn't matter," declared a voice, and Jasmine spun to face Hermione in her adult form from the mirror sitting on a headstone, dangling her legs around. "You've ruled out your best option without thinking about it. Your disillusionment wasn't up to standard when you were in the First Task, so what did you do?"
'I compensated for it, used grey clothing. How can I do that here? Unless I otherwise obscure my form. '
"You don't need to obscure yourself when you can obscure everything," Hermione stated with a condescending smile.
'Of course, but how?' She glanced down, and smiled. 'The grass, it's damp, it rained here recently. Water droplets superheated to make steam over wide area, they won't notice any flickers in the air as I move to a better position to flank them.'
"Don't think about it, do it!" the Hermione clone ordered, and Jasmine's consciousness whipped back to the present and her eyes opened to where she had been a second before.
Swiftly, she tapped her wand to her head and resisted shivering at the feeling as her body became largely disillusioned, before spinning slightly to point her wand just past the slab of stone.
"Veloxia Flagrante!" Jasmine casted the spell she was so familiar with by now, not for the first time that day, and keenly felt the flame spell draw on her depleted reserves of magic as it burned the grass, and as wanted, produced a cloud of smoke and steam. Using the moment quickly, she dashed away, moving to a mausoleum the size of a small shed that afforded her full body cover and a view of the enemy. Peeking her head out a little bit from the opposite side, she looked over at who had attacked her.
'Pettigrew, but where's the other one?' flashed through her mind as she regarded the rat-like man facing towards where she had been. And then she saw the bundle cradled by the man's left arm move, and a tiny pale arm extend a bone white wand. 'Small form, adult voice, uses wand so not non-human. This is Voldemort's party, is that him? How would he be…a homunculus, something to do with a dead baby, mentioned in one of the books Moriarty received from Borgin.' She silently cursed the fact that she hadn't studied much in Dark magic beyond its offensive capabilities in a fight.
"Over there! Wormtail!" the nasally voice commanded, and the chubby, balding man spun to look straight at her, presumably seeing the distortion of her body against the sky behind her. She ducked back quickly, even as an explosive curse broke apart part of the Greco-style mausoleum beside her.
'Best course of action? Confront and attack; the rat isn't that powerful, and Voldemort is in a weak form, I can take them out quickly with a surprise attack.'
Stepping out from around the corner, Jasmine chain-shot a pair of Reducto's at them, which were blocked by a shield, but she was already in her element and moving into a swift cutter, followed by a gout of flame. Her incantation of a bone breaker was stopped halfway through as they returned fire, and she was forced to spin out of the way as a rippling purple curse narrowly missed her. Her quick 'Reducto' was foiled by another shield from Pettigrew, while Voldemort fired one back at her, and Jasmine's shield barely came up in time to stop the explosive burst.
'Might have underestimated them,' flashed through her mind, even as she flicked a spiralling orange hex at her assailants, once more aware of her depleted core. 'Pettigrew can shield both of them with one spell, and Voldemort can cast offensive in the same area. Bloody aggravating.' She didn't let up, however, returning fire with a pair of bone-breakers, and another of her beloved explosive curses as she ducked under a sickly grey looking curse.
A second was wasted as she frowned, though, as Pettigrew gave a keen of pain, despite having blocked her attack.
The reason was given as a crack sounded off to her left, and the ravenette's eyes widened as she spun on the spot all too sluggishly, her depleted body refusing to respond fast enough.
It was too late however, and she only had time to see the crimson stunner before everything went black.
#####################################################
The first thing Jasmine was aware of – and likely the reason for her waking – was a prickling of her skin, like insects constantly moving around underneath it and writhing to push it up. The second was the aching tiredness of her limbs, and the pulsing headache within her skull. The third was a familiar nasal voice barking orders.
"Hurry, Wormtail! The moon is nearly risen!" he commanded.
Finally, the ravenette's heavy eyelids drifted open and took in the scene.
She was still in the graveyard, and now tied to the headstone of the Riddle family with rope. In front of her was a hunched man over a bubbling cauldron, recognisably Pettigrew as he dumped vials of ingredients into the black metal container. Across from him was a more familiar face, holding onto the baby-sized form of Voldemort she had seen earlier; Bartemius Crouch.
Well, it explained who had put her name in the Goblet of Fire, and who had apparated in and stunned her. Presumably, Voldemort had used Pettigrew's Dark Mark to summon him; she hadn't anticipated that. 'Stupid!' she admonished herself.
"My Lord, please let me be the one to perform this ritual to return you to proper form," the old man pleaded of the bundle.
"No, Barty, let the rat do it, you have no need to prove your loyalty," Voldemort hissed in return.
"You honour me, my Lord, with your pr-ah," he started choking and spasming slightly. "Poly-urgh." He fumbled visibly in his coat pocket before coming up with an empty vial. A look of despair was just able to made out on his face through the light of the fire under the cauldron before it bubbled and ran like molten wax, and features shifted to become younger but more haggard and gaunt. When it was done, Jasmine was staring at someone who shared several features with Bartemius Crouch, but was most definitely not him.
'Polyjuice, but how? The Marauder's Map would have shown him as…oh, similar facial features, same eyes, same name. This is his son – the Death Eater – apparently returned from the grave?' Shaking her head minutely, Jasmine tried to force herself to stop obsessing over miniscule detail. 'Deductions aren't important unless I get out of this situation alive; where's my wand?' A quick feel of her senses for her connection let her eyes fall around to Wormtail, where her attuned stick of holly was poking from his pocket. 'Next, bindings; rope, hempen, roughly half an inch thick, probably conjured, tight and keeping my arms locked to my side. Think! How do I get out of them?'
As she attempted to brainstorm, the prickling of her skin made itself known again in the silence of her mind – like little needles constantly stabbing outwards.
'Fire,' she realised, 'I'm still impervious, if I can get a wandless Incendio up my back…' with a slight wriggle of her fingers, she realised they were just about close enough for that to work. 'Right, once I've escaped, then what?' Her eyes searched about a little before landing on the ornate cup that had served as a Portkey. 'That should still have a connection to where I left the maze, if I can get to it, I can force it back to its last location. Wait, do I have enough power left to do that?' Barely, was quite possibly the answer; even with relying on the fact the Cup had already been a portkey. And of course, she still needed to get past her three captors – and this time, she wouldn't underestimate them.
"It's time, Wormtail!" barked the command of Voldemort, and the rat poured a final pouch of powder into the cauldron, the potion turning a deep silver upon contact.
"Incendio!" Jasmine whispered as quietly as she could, wiggling her fingers a bit while trying to push magic into them like the way she had learned a few other small bits of wandless magic. She tried not to let it frustrate her when nothing happened.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," Wormtail incanted, before turning to her and flicking a wand at the soil beneath her feet. Jasmine tried her hardest to play unconscious, letting her head loll a bit to the side will still furiously trying to channel what little magical reserves she had left into her fingers, watching through nearly closed eyes as a trail of white powder flew from the ground into the cauldron. She could do this! She had an affinity with fire spells, certainly, after all the time spent practicing for the Tournament, and the general spells already in her offensive arsenal.
"Incendio!" she muttered darkly as soon as they turned away from her, trying desperately to ignite the flame atop her fingers. This was a ritual to bring Voldemort back, that much was clear, and all Dark Rituals required sacrifice. Killing a person to fuel it was not uncommon amongst this kind of magic, and that was the logical reason for her presence.
"Flesh of the servant, w-willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master," the rat continued, before giving a keen of pain as he severed his own hand off with a silvery blade, the flesh and bone falling into the newly blood red liquid. Now the idea of Voldemort not wanting Crouch to do it made sense. "B-blood of the enemy," Pettigrew continued, turning to her while using a conjured piece of cloth to staunch his bleeding. "Forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!"
The same knife was sliced into her upper arm, above where the ropes bit into her, and Jasmine tried to school her expression into one of remained unconsciousness – and found it far too easy. She felt only the pain of a papercut, perhaps, from the cutting of her flesh – what was going on? 'The Runes,' her mind whispered to her in reply. They'd been left on too long; they needed to come off, and soon.
The moment the balding man turned back to his work, Jasmine concentrated all her essence and will into one idea – the warm flickering orange light of flame, central in her mind and pictured in detail – and then she practically shoved her magic into her fingers. Her eyes snapped open as a familiar warm tickling danced across her fingertips and, trying not to let the spell die, she channelled a bit more power into the spell, letting the flames flicker and lick their way up her back to the ropes binding her down.
Her concentration faltered, however, as she looked up to see black smoke enshrouding the cauldron, intersected by crackling silver lightning in places.
'No, forget distractions, get through the bindings or you're dead!' Jasmine wrenched her gaze away from the enfolding ritual, focusing on her little flames eating away at the ropes. She gave a slight push outwards, trying to feel for any give meaning that she was succeeding but there was only a tiny amount of slack. Before her eyes, the cloud over the cauldron dissipated, to reveal a pale, sinewy body that unfolded itself, and awakened with glowing red eyes. In response, Jasmine strained her aching muscles against the ropes, silently demanding that they break and let her loose.
Her opportunity finally came as Pettigrew stepped over to the Dark Lord, who was currently running too-long fingers over his new body, to hand him a black robe. All at once, the ropes binding her down gave way, and with a heave of effort she made the frayed hemp snap in several places, depositing her on her knees on the wet grass.
"Accio wand!" she ordered immediately, holding out her hand towards Pettigrew and the implement in his back pocket. With a force of will disproportionate to her drained body, she sent a mental call to the stick attuned to her magical core, feeling the piece of holly respond and flick from the pocket into her outstretched hand. "Reducto," she incanted as soon as wood touched her palm, and a blast of yellow energy shot towards the newly regenerated Voldemort who simply batted it aside with a bare hand while smiling at her.
"Jasmine Potter," he announced almost amiably, while giving three slow claps. "Welcome to my Triumph!" 'Déjà vu, much,' she thought to herself while not taking her eyes off the Dark Lord, remembering back to the last time they had met. She didn't miss the wands being drawn by his two lackeys, or that Pettigrew handed over Voldemort's own bone white wand to him. She was outnumbered three-to-one, her core was severely depleted by all her casting today and keeping the runes active for so long, and she was facing down the most feared Dark Lord in Britain's recent history. 'If he's behaving the same way, maybe I can engage him in conversation again to buy time.'
"What took you so long?" she asked defiantly, sending a glance beyond Crouch towards the discarded trophy behind him. "You've had more than three years since we last met, although I suppose Quirrel's body probably didn't last you long. Maybe another four to six months, if you took more unicorn blood of course."
"You are an intelligent little girl, aren't you?" the serpentine man replied, looking her over with calculating eyes. "You know, there were plans to help you along in this Tournament until you reached the Cup first at the end of the last task, but none of them were necessary. I'll even confess to being impressed by your ingenious method of passing through the maze," he gestured up and down her rune covered body.
"Praise from Lord Voldemort himself, I'm flattered," she said with a slight faked smile as she stood up slowly, fingering her own wand by her side even as the Dark Lord did the same, and two more were pointed at her from opposite directions. "But why the song and dance? You could have tried to capture me months ago for this, why now?"
"Rituals have power; effort has been expended to bring you here and months of planning, it makes the end result greater, not least that this was performed on the Summer Equinox – a further day of power. I have gained greater strength through it; none shall stand before the renewed Lord Voldemort and live. Which begs the question of you," his glowing eyes narrowed, and Jasmine used the opportunity to take a step backwards – making it look instinctual rather than trying to get a clear line between her and the Cup.
"That is the final problem, isn't it?" she replied, making sure her eyes remained trained on him but looking in her peripheral vision. 'Roughly four or five seconds to summon the Cup, another three to turn it back into a Portkey and follow the trace back. It's too long; I need a distraction.'
"Yes, but one that has two simple solutions," Voldemort stated, giving a shark-like smile, "you can die, of course, and in your current condition it would be all too simple to dispose of you, but it would seem such a waste of young talent. Instead, you can join me, and you will know power that you could never have dreamed of. I have much use for someone of a quick mind and powerful magic, even with your…unfortunate blood status. You already have the potential; by my side you could be truly great."
"Interesting offer, I'm sure," she took another step backwards, flicking her eyes towards the two Death Eaters ready to attack her about twenty feet away from her on both sides – plenty of room to manoeuvre. "But, you see; although my robes have blue trim, that wasn't where the Hat would have placed me if it could see into my mind at the Sorting. I'm a Slytherin through and through, really, and those of the House of cunning always have a way out. Gehenne Ignitia!" Finally she raised her wand, flicking it upwards even as a blazing dragon of orange flame formed on the end, spurting out like water from a fire hydrant. Of course, this time around she had no control runes, and it spilled forward in blistering heat and continued to spew from her wand. "Finite!" She had to physically force magic through her holly instrument to stop the Fiendfyre from continuing to emerge, but it of course didn't affect the conflagration that was brewing in front of her and a flaming horse that had turned its eyes upon her. "Accio Cup!" her wand was flicked out to the side, and the ornate trophy whistled towards her at some speed, but it overshot as Jasmine was forced to duck down onto one knee from a green killing curse that shot over her bowed head from past the fire.
With wide eyes, she sought out the trophy even as she could feel the flickering heat of the flames – her runes would do nothing to protect her body against the fires of Hell itself.
"Enough!" a voice roared, and the Fiendfyre seemed to be sucked forwards until the sight of the three men was unveiled once more with the last sparks travelling inside of Voldemort's wand. 'Bloody hell, he can control Fiendfyre that well?' "You have chosen poorly in attempting this folly; I had hoped you would see the right decision here, but instead you leave me no choice."
"This would just make the third time in my life you've tried to kill me, Tom Riddle," she answered, looking over at him with disdain in her eyes, feeling some malicious glee as anger and surprise filled his own.
"Avada Kedavra!" he cried out in rage at her use of his real name, and Jasmine desperately tried to counter the pale green curse as it barrelled towards her with a conjured rock, but her arm was too sluggish to bring the stone into place quickly enough, and it missed. What she did not expect to see was the sudden golden stream that both her levitation spell and the killing curse turned into, connecting their wands even as a gold cage of light spawned into existence around them, blocking off the other two persons present. 'What the hell?' flashed through her mind as she regarded the chord of magic connecting their wands, and the ball of light present where the spells had hit each other.
What also made itself known was the sound of Phoenix song, and Jasmine noted the surprise on the Dark Lord's face disappear momentarily as it was replaced with pain, an expression mirrored on her own as the Light magic grated upon her ears. Of course, she had merely dabbled in fell magics, he was steeped in them and using a body crafted through the Dark Arts – for once in the last few minutes, she had the advantage.
However, she was so distracted by the strange events that she barely noticed the ball of light beginning to bob closer to her, and she instinctively focused on it – knowing that to not be a good thing. 'No!' her mind cried, and she focused on the small piece of magic, watching as it was pushed back in the other direction towards her assailant. And then Jasmine gave a slight smile; this was a battle of wills. And in such a contest, any opponent against her was unarmed.
With all her strength of mind – which unlike her body was at its full might – she threw herself behind the energy of her wand, watching the sparking sphere move away from her. Voldemort seemed to catch on relatively quickly, and she felt him resisting her, but nothing would dissuade her iron willed mind and she let everything fall by the wayside as she concentrated. Her pain from her aching form disappeared, her view of the graveyard became nothing, and even her awareness of the Phoenix song was relegated to a back bench as she pushed with all her formidable might.
Finally, after seconds that felt like hours, the energy pressed into the tip of Voldemort's pale wand, and shades of light flashed away from it like fireworks. 'Priori Incantatum,' her mind provided her as she watched the wand spewing out copies of the last spells it cast while its wielder began to gain a slightly panicked look. With the last vestiges of her strength, she gave an extra push into the chord of magic and there was an audible snap of cracking wood as something gave in his wand.
Suddenly, the chain was broken as the red-eyed man pulled his wand away in an upwards flick, severing the connection and unleashing a backlash upon himself as those previously pale flashes collapsed onto him. All too quickly, the golden cage began to fall apart, and Jasmine's eyes sought her prize in order to use the opportunity she had been given.
With every last bit of energy in her body, she sprung to the side from her position in a leap worthy of a goalkeeper at the world cup, reaching for the gold and crystal trophy that was her only way out. As soon as her fingers brushed against it, there was a surprising tug at her navel, and she was pulled from the graveyard. The black emptiness of oblivion surrounded her even as a triumphant smile crawled its way onto her lips. She hadn't even needed to power it herself; the morons had left it as a two-way portkey.
With a thump, she finally arrived at her destination, the shock of impact extremely jarring to her aching form. Her green eyes scanned around to see the hedges of the maze, and various stunned looking adults from Dumbledore to what looked like several Aurors standing around staring at her as she appeared from thin air on the pedestal, clutching the Triwizard Trophy.
Her mind tried to come up with some witty quip for the assembled group, but instead the tiredness of her body and all the aches and pains of the day overwhelmed her, and she passed out into the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.
#####################################################
As Jasmine's mind slowly woke up from slumber, she became aware of the pounding in her skull, and a slightly wet numbness in her limbs as well as her eyes feeling like lead weights were attached to them. They twitched as she heard voices nearby, and her ears strained to catch the sound.
"Headmaster, I must protest; she needs rest and is in no condition for doing anything else," stated the matronly voice of Madame Pomphrey.
"I'm sorry, Poppy, but we must learn what has happened," said Headmaster replied, and Jasmine finally managed to force her eyes open to see a green curtain around her hospital bed being pulled aside to reveal four figures; the ever present matron of Hogwarts, its 'esteemed' headmaster, Cornelius Fudge, and Madame Bones. "And I believe she is already awake."
The ravenette tried to sit up in response, but found her leaden limbs uncooperative. Looking aside slightly, she could just see linen bandages coating her shoulder and looking like it covered her entire form.
"What?" slipped past her lips in a hoarse voice.
"Don't try to expend any effort, Miss Potter," the busybody nurse ordered as she shuffled over to her side, waving a wand over her body. "You're suffering from magical exhaustion on top of all the damage you've done to yourself with those silly runes."
"Damage?" the ravenette croaked with concern colouring her tone.
"There is a good reason those old methods are no longer used; you've put enormous stress on your skin and the muscles beneath it that are extremely difficult to heal with magic," the old woman replied tersely.
"Wonderful," the ravenette replied sarcastically, memories flooding back of the Third Task. She had known that to be a risk, but she hadn't considered what might happen after grabbing the Trophy. Getting tied up for several hours would not have done her body any good, and then of course there was the fact that Voldemort was hanging around with a proper body…
"Jas-Miss Potter," Dumbledore managed to correct himself as she sent a baleful glare his way, "we must ask what it is that happened when you left the maze? You were gone for several hours."
"It was a portkey," she answered annoyedly as she once more tried to sit up, finding her body still unresponsive. "Madame Pomphrey, would you release the spell holding me down?"
"Miss Potter, you should not be moving around and I placed that spell for a reason," the nurse replied.
"I merely wish to sit up, thank-you," she said firmly, and witch paused before giving a flick of her wand. The numbness faded slightly from her body upon feeling it wash over her, but without it a faint aching could be felt from her skin all over herself – not dissimilarly to sunburn or the like. With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself up against the headboard and pillows before continuing. "I was taken to a graveyard and attacked," she paused, deciding what to say. Based on the fact that Voldemort had returned, he would be pursuing the same goals he did previously, with the addition of her death of course, so having the Ministry chasing him down would probably be a good thing. "By Peter Pettigrew, Bartemius Crouch, and what appeared to be the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort." Two of the four adults flinched at the name, though Dumbledore's only reaction was a deep frown while Bones stared at her with incredulity.
"That, that's not p-possible," Fudge spluttered.
"The latter was in the body of a baby from what I could see," Jasmine continued as if the man had said nothing, "I was stunned, and I woke up near nightfall tied to a gravestone while Pettigrew was preparing a potion. I was in time to see Crouch's body morph into that of his son the convicted Death Eater – he'd been using polyjuice potion it would seem. They performed a ritual which used a bone from a grave, Pettigrew's hand and my blood, after which Voldemort emerged fully formed – although not particularly human looking, I'll grant you. He had red eyes, white skin and unnaturally long limbs and such. I broke free from my ropes with a fire spell, and I then…duelled him until I could grab the cup – which brought me back to the maze." The majority of what she had said was the truth, which was a rare thing for her; however Fudge seemed to not be reacting well.
"No, no, he can't be back, it's preposterous. The man's been dead for thirteen years," the bumbling ministers announced.
"Minister, when we followed the Portkey trace, it did lead to a graveyard, and there were traces of Dark Magic in the air still," Madame Bones commented firmly. "We must at least consider the possibility."
"It's impossible; I mean, Barty Crouch Junior disguised as his father with polyjuice? He died in Azkaban more than a decade ago," the pudgy man replied. "No, I'm sure this can't have happened."
"Are you suggesting that I am lying, Minister?" Jasmine inquired in a calm but dangerous sounding voice, and the man seemed to visibly gulp at realising what he was implying.
"No, but perhaps you were mistaken. They could be imposters, perhaps! Yes, people seeking to capitalise on the legend of…of You-Know-Who, probably led by that criminal Pettigrew!" The man seemed to relax then, more content with the lie he was telling himself. "I'm sure we can round up three men, can we not, Madame Bones?"
"Yes," the woman replied neutrally, her face stony.
"Then that settles it," the politician announced.
"Cornelius, I don't think you should dismiss this quite so quickly," Dumbledore interjected, "I did warn you of this possibility."
"Nonsense, Dumbledore, it's just probably some foreign Dark Wizard or someone Pettigrew has recruited masquerading as him in order to create fear," Fudge insisted firmly. "If you'll excuse me, I must be going – interview with the Prophet I need to attend. Oh, I nearly forgot; your winnings, Miss Potter." He produced a bulging pouch of coinage from an expanded pocket. He seemed lost for a moment on how to give it to her before placing it on her bedside table. "So long." And with that, he put back on the green bowler hat he had been carrying and walked off briskly.
"Madame Bones," Jasmine stated from her position on the bed, "would you mind scheduling a meeting with me." A glare was sent her way from the school nurse. "Sometime next week, perhaps? There are some things I would discuss with you."
"I shall see what I can do," the steely woman stated before following the Minister. The woman was just moving past the green curtains around her bed when she was bodily pushed out of the way by a breathless, bushy-haired student that practically leapt until she was clinging to Jasmine's side, arms clasped around the ravenette.
"Hello to you too, Hermione," the Ravenclaw murmured as her face was filled with brown hair.
"Miss Granger!" Pomphrey started, hands placed on her hips before Jasmine raised her own, palm outward.
"Would you mind giving us a moment Madame, Professor," Jasmine eyed the grey-bearded man who had seemed deep in thought since she had told her story.
"Yes, of course, come along Poppy," he actually smiled at her, which was a disconcerting sight to see. As soon as the pair had closed the curtains, Hermione had her wand out and layered several privacy charms over the space until she was satisfied.
And then a lip-searing kiss was laid upon her, and the rest of the world faded away. They stayed glued to each other for several glorious moments before the Gryffindor pulled back for air.
"I thought I'd lost you," Hermione stated, and Jasmine could see the frantic look in her eyes that had only ever been seen during revision times prior to now. "When you disappeared with the trophy, and the screen went black, and you didn't come back…"
"No; I might lose an arm, or maybe a leg, but pack it all in together? Never," the ravenette replied, reaching out to clasp the other girl's hand before realising her own was sheathed in bandages.
"Don't joke about that," Hermione said firmly, "what happened?"
"Voldemort," she answered simply, "he finally came back for me after leaving in First Year. Had some kind of resurrection ritual using my blood to get a proper body, and then offered me a place with him."
"And you told him to sod off, I'm guessing?"
"Essentially, yes."
"But he's definitely back, then?" A sight look of fear covered the normally feisty girl's face.
"Yes," she answered gravely, finally considering all the consequences that it entailed. A hell of a lot of things needed to happen now, and quickly too. "You and your parents speak French, don't you?"
"Yes, however if you're even thinking of shipping me off to France while you stay here," the warning in her voice was not idle.
"I was actually going to suggest Canada; it's a commonwealth nation," she replied calmly, "and I know you'd refuse to go, but it was worth a try. I still want to move your parents there, though."
"You think there's that big a danger?" Hermione worried her lip as she looked away, concern showing on her visage.
"Absolutely – you are my best friend, as far as the public is concerned, and one of very few people I associate with, as well as being muggleborn and regularly showing up the pureblood students. You, and by extension your family, are at risk as long as you remain in Britain. I can have wards put up around your home but I'd prefer to be certain – I know losing them would devastate you."
"We… can we talk about this another time; I need to think some things over," the bushy-haired girl replied.
"Of course, we have time before they start going on the offensive, that's for sure. He has to rebuild his powerbase right now before he can do anything, and it gives us the chance to do the same," Jasmine frowned as she considered just how much work was ahead, "there's a lot I need to do."
"I'll be here to help you," Hermione said firmly, and the ravenette sent her a thankful smile.
"Have I ever mentioned I love you?"
"Once or twice." The Ravenclaw chuckled slightly as she pushed herself up; wincing as doing so sent a twinge through the palms of her hands. "Stop, you're hurting yourself. What was it those runes did after leaving them on so long?"
"I have no idea; those African runes have never been used in that way before," Jasmine replied with a grimace, "if you could drop the charms, I'd quite like to ask Madame Pomphrey actually." The Gryffindor replied in giving her another quick kiss before dropping the secrecy charms, after which the old matron immediately moved past the curtain as if she had been waiting impatiently.
"It would be best for you to leave now, Miss Granger, it's important Miss Potter receive rest in order to heal and all this excitement isn't conducive to that," the white-haired lady ordered.
"Before you drug me, Madame Pomphrey, I would like to know the extent of my injuries?" the ravenette queried.
"Yes, well," the woman tapped her wand-tip against the palm of her opposite hand, "your skin is the most damaged, as that was what you were trying to affect, and as a result is now highly sensitive as well as you may have lost some nerve endings and fine motor skills. I'm afraid that I can't heal this with magic, as it was caused by this level of magic from your own core, it will resist all healing unless you are entirely drained of magic – which would require you to become a squib. There's nothing I can do for that, although you may regain a little over time naturally, I doubt it. The result is your skin is now highly vulnerable; any cuts will take longer to heal, and I highly recommend you not allow direct sunlight to touch it or there will be ill effects."
"Are you saying I'm going to have to cover up like a vampire now?"
"I'm saying either you do, or you will be straight back in here for burn damage," the nurse replied sternly. "Furthermore, there was some damage to your muscles from channelling all this magic to your skin, but since they were the conduit only I can repair them – however you will not be leaving that bed until I say you are able to."
"Oh, joy," the ravenette muttered, already dreading the days upcoming confined to her rest. Well, at least it gave her time to plan.
#####################################################
The security guard's eyes widened slightly as he looked up from his desk at her, though in fairness she had dressed to impress somewhat. Her garb made from dragon skin clad her of course, overlaying a pair of black trousers, a similarly coloured waistcoat and white shirt that had a single button open before meeting a black scarf that wrapped around her neck to her lower face. Above there, and resting beneath the brim of her hat, was a pair of round sunglasses of a vintage feel with its gold rims, and slight side-shields of the same metal. A hand snaked up to pull down her scarf, unveiling the unnaturally pale skin that now juxtaposed with her pale pink lips.
"Jasmine Potter to see Madame Bones," she enunciated clearly, watching the man suddenly scramble for an obsidian stick from his desk which he waved at her, apparently feeling nothing.
"Er, your w-wand, please, Miss Potter," he asked hesitantly. A flick of her wrist, and the holly stick was deposited in her gloved hand – coated in brown leather of course – before she handed the instrument over. The man set it on some scales that recorded a few pieces of information before returning it to her. "You may proceed. Department of Magical Law Enforcement is eighth level."
"Thank-you," she replied dispassionately as she returned her wand to its wrist holster before continuing onwards towards one of the golden elevators. It was honestly a bit of a pain to stay constantly covered up like this, but she had quickly discovered how necessary they were – just a short experiment had quickly turned her porcelain epidermis pink, and even with sunglasses on the sun aggravated her. She was no longer quite so proud of finding a way to make the runes keep her eyes and mouth and such safe as well as her skin.
She ignored the looks and some stares as she stood stiffly in the elevator, only stepping out once she reached the DMLE and immediately setting forth with determination through the Auror office to the door with a gold plaque on the far side. She paused only then, to finally knock on the mahogany door.
"Come in," a voice called, and she opened it to be greeted with the minimalist office of one Madame Bones, who currently sat at her hefty desk with several sheets of parchment she was apparently studying. "Ah, Miss Potter, you're early."
"Better to be early than to be late," she replied as she took a seat opposite the formidable woman. "You know, despite the contact we've had, this is my first time in your office."
"That was dealing with politics rather than law enforcement most of the time; this is far more important," the steel-grey haired woman plucked the papers from her desk and shoved them in a drawer before leaning back to look at her contemplatively. "I believe you know what my first question will be."
"Am I certain Voldemort has returned?" Jasmine liked that the ex-auror didn't so much as flinch at the name. "Definitely. We traded the traditional 'banter' while fighting, and due to another reason I won't disclose I am sure it was him." Bones didn't look particularly happy about her leaving something out, but apparently seemed satisfied as she sighed while opening a lower drawer on her desk and withdrawing a crystal tumbler of brown liquid that she poured out into a well-used looking glass.
"The minister has of course released statements detailing that you were attacked by Pettigrew and his men, and that my department is working on it. So far, the fact that Crouch has disappeared has been kept quiet and he is obviously looking to keep it that way – I imagine he would not be best pleased if you gave out that little titbit," her tone suggested that she hoped Jasmine would.
"Meanwhile your departmental budget has been cut yet again in order to line some career politicians' pockets, and you are woefully underequipped after more than a dozen years of said," Jasmine commented. "Not to mention, if Fudge gets wind of anything you're saying or doing to combat Voldemort, you'll be hemmed in on all sides by things he'll force on you to smother your efforts while also trying to get you thrown out of your job."
"He's been trying to get rid of me for years," the woman admitted.
"He's a moron who can't see past the end of his wallet and the bribes that get slipped in it," Jasmine summed up, "however, he can't go around this." She withdrew from a side pocket two sheets of parchment. "These are ready to be filed once signed by you and myself; the James Potter Foundation in order to supply our Law Enforcement personnel with proper equipment and more men, and the Lily Potter Foundation to provide for the training system in order to get more through training quicker and better than before." She slid the parchment across the desk, and Bones' eyes widened under her monocle as she read them.
"This is quite a substantial sum you're offering," she finally said.
"Not offering; donating. Or funding if you prefer," the ravenette stated, "your forces need bulking up if we're to survive the coming storm."
"This will let me do just that; thank-you," the grizzled woman seemed genuine in her appreciation, and Jasmine merely inclined her head in reply.
"I might call upon you for some evidence on Saturday's 'emergency session' by the way," the ravenette said as she stood to leave.
"It's being pushed to Sunday; Fudge isn't happy with Dumbledore since he knows what angle he's going to try and spread," Bones replied, "I think he means to call for a vote of no confidence if he can get the support."
"That may not be a bad thing," Bones' eyebrow rose at her reply. "Dumbledore is a manipulator, and an idealist. If he had his way we'd let everyone who committed a wrongdoing let go in order to have a second chance, and yet at the same time he will sacrifice anyone for his nebulous 'Greater Good.' I was of a mind to suggest Amos Diggory as his replacement."
"I…can't say I disapprove of your choice," Amelia admitted. Diggory was one of the leaders of the slightly lighter-aligned neutrals within the Wizengamot, and was a personal friend of Bones she knew, as well as being an upstanding citizen serving on the Hogwarts Board of Governors and such. "He's a proud man, with plenty of character flaws, but he'd be able to sort through all the bullshit."
"I have plenty of contacts with the Light-aligned Houses I plan on speaking to; if you could do the same amongst the neutrals then we have an almost sure chance of installing him in the chair."
"I'll see what I can do," she eventually replied after a few moments silence.
#####################################################
"Ah, Mr Malfoy," Jasmine stood as Fox closed the door behind the man, moving over to her drinks globe. "I have a new Napoleonic I've been wanting to surprise you with."
"You have a fine taste in brandy," the man replied smoothly as he settled himself in the chair before her desk, accepting a glass from her as she offered it. "Mm, divine as always," he added upon tasting the fine liquor.
"Yes, if there's one thing muggles can do right, it's alcohol," Jasmine said as she sat back in her own seat, nursing a glass of her own – it was still highly potent to her undeveloped palette, but she was getting used to alcohol as she had a need to. "And of course, they are so very useful and easy to control in many other aspects. Like shipping contraband around the world – stick it in a crate on a cargo vessel, and a few mind-altering charms here and there, and it's child's play to ship anything from dark artefacts to a manticore." She swirled the liquid in her glass for a moment, "wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose," he drawled, "to be fair, I tend not to think of them."
"Well, they are beneath us after all," she said with a smile, one echoed on the blond man's own face.
"Of course."
"However, you give enough peasant folk pitchforks and a reason to hate you, and even the great kings in their castles can be toppled," she set down her glass upon the desk and steepled her fingers. "Tell me, Mister Malfoy, how is your life?"
"I'm not entirely sure I follow," he said with a frown, his brows furrowed.
"Your life – you have your mansion and estate, a fairly sizable fortune and assets, power within the Wizengamot and even the Minister for Magic dancing to your tune. Practically anything you could want, you can have – whether through the ministry, or through our organization. And this life of luxury you have lived for many a year, and your son shall have the same when his time comes. So my question is this; why would you need a master to take some of these freedoms from you, and expect you to be grateful as you are shackled to his throne?" Malfoy's expression was now entirely schooled and neutral, not betraying a single thing.
"I don't know what you mean," he said tightly.
"Yes you do; he's probably already brought the Inner Circle together by now, and probably wasn't too happy with you all for abandoning his name – did he just use the cruciatus, or did he go further?" A slight twitch of his eyelid was his only response. "Lucius," she leaned forward in a relaxed position, using the man's first name for the first time, "is this really what you want? Right now, you control whatever you want to – you have the minister's ear, political power, financial, etcetera – and I don't think you are quite the young, radical idealist that stepped out of Hogwarts wanting to clear up your world of the mudbloods anymore, are you? With age comes wisdom, and you know as well as I do how easy they are to exploit – we are planning on opening what amounts to a potions factory in a month, with thirty employees brewing all day on practically a slave wage, and they will take that just to stay in the magical world. There's far more use in them if they're educated, and if they believe themselves to be free."
"They do not belong in our world," Malfoy growled out.
"I would say they have their uses," Jasmine raised her glass off the table demonstratively. "Lucius, what has the man you followed actually promised to you, or more importantly delivered? He's a silver-tongued politician and aspiring dictator at first glance, but he's also a thug and a liar. What did you gain by fighting with him? A mark on your arm that won't go away – branding you as his property or the like – and a severe decrease in the magical population. Despite your differing political opinions, you must mourn the families that died out in the last war – many following that man who has lied to you at every step." She stood, moving to a side table that held an open book where she had left it for this moment. "Cavendish, Gibbon, Fawley, McKinnon, Savin, and that's just those who are entirely gone. Longbottom, Black, Crouch, Rowle, Bones, even the Potters; all of these are unlikely to survive more than a decade and all are shadows of their former selves. And all at the whim of a half-blood who wanted the world." Malfoy's head whipped around at that, and she gave a sad smile – faked of course – as she shook her head. "I did tell you he was a liar through and through. 'Lord Voldemort,'" the man shuddered slightly at the name, "it's bad French, and it's his real name as much as mine is Adler. No, it's a name he gave himself at school."
Much as Voldemort himself had done, she flicked her ebony wand form her sleeve and wrote fiery lets in the air to spell 'Tom Marvolo Riddle,' letting Malfoy read the name before rearranging them to show 'I am Lord Voldemort.'
"No…" he murmured under his breath, his jaw slack as he stared.
"Born Thomas Marvolo Riddle in Wool's Orphanage, London," Jasmine replied, opening a drawer on her desk as she sat and pulling out a brown file – she had been busy these last few days, and it hadn't been difficult to track down where the graveyard had been and thereby a few other paper-trails that led her to records of the Gaunt family nearby, and then of course she could access genealogy records at Gringotts'. "Mother; Merope Gaunt – from what I've gathered, practically a squib, and her family lived in squalor." She was still trying to find where exactly he had lived, in-case there was anything there, but all the local muggles couldn't remember where they were – which was decidedly suspicious. She had resolved that the area needed to be combed while looking for wards or magic. "His father was Thomas Riddle Junior, son of the local lord of the manor and most definitely a muggle."
"That's not possible!" Malfoy shot to his feet, "there's no way that…" he trailed off, realising he might be about to incriminate himself more likely.
"Simple facts, Mr Malfoy," Jasmine leaned back in her chair, "Voldemort, while a master of Dark Arts, is a half-blood who has been lying to you, your family and everyone you knew for decades. He simply wants to rule the world, and apparently decided to take advantage of the situation where the purebloods were riled up for a fight already. He manipulated you, spent your gold, and ordered you around like common thugs."
"All this time…" the blond man sat back down, looking slightly dazed.
"And of course, he offered you the position of knights in his kingdom – if he ever succeeded – while you are already a prince," Jasmine watched him carefully as she mulled over the next part of her speech. "What's more, he's bad for business. The Ministry is easy to control, and gold gets us anything we want – he would change that. My employer would like to see Voldemort ended, for good this time. It would be unwise to stick with him, although I doubt you wish to after these revelations." Grey eyes found her own, and she smiled slightly. "You will of course be thinking that things are not that easy; rest assured we have thought of this – it's why I'm approaching you. We have plenty of ways to counter Voldemort, and plans are already in motion to do so. We also offer protection and support for any…defectors. Aside from having a not inconsiderable force of our own, we also have numerous safe-houses at our disposal as well as substantial assets."
"Why would you offer this; what have you to gain?" he asked carefully.
"Pulling away his power base before he can even round it up makes things easier for us," she answered, "without his Death Eaters, he's just one – albeit powerful – man, and that we can deal with easily."
"I…shall need to think on several things," Malfoy eventually stated, standing up and moving to leave.
"Before you go, I should mention; we will be moving against him regardless of who is with him, so I would recommend you not doing or else face my employer's…considerable wrath with him. And, he also bade me offer to you a position," she steepled her fingers once more as she pondered how best to phrase this. "We lack information in his camp at present time, and you are in a very good position within his inner circle, and you have him relying on you for many things. We would appreciate someone amongst his ranks who would be able to provide us information on his movements and plans, and would be willing to compensate you to a very large degree."
"You wish me to be a spy?" he inquired disbelievingly.
"Essentially, yes. We will not be offended if you choose safety instead – there are of course risks with this course of action – but do consider what it might bring you. Our organisation holds power not just here, but expanding beyond this nation's borders, and we have access to anything you might desire – and unlike Voldemort, we will actually deliver."
"Yes," he rubbed his chin a little, "you have given me much to think about; I think I shall bid you my leave."
"Of course, good day Mister Malfoy," she gave a wave of her hand as he walked out, before slumping back in her seat. That hadn't gone terribly; it hadn't gone amazingly either, but it was definitely hovering on her advantage side of things. With a lazy grab, she swooped up her glass and downed the remaining contents, shivering as the alcohol burned its way down her throat.
'So much to do, so little time,' wandered through her head as she pulled out a drawer and from therein several pieces of parchment, 'plans within plans, wheels within wheels. You have no idea what you've unleashed, Tom Riddle.'
A/N: Phew, finally done and over with. I literally only just finished this at seven thirty, with plans to upload in about twenty minutes from now, so forgive me if it's a bit rough in places.
I think I might need to push the update schedule back a bit – I've had to finish this while I've supposed to have been working. I think every fortnight might be a bit easier to handle, so I'm afraid this will now be having slower updates – I'll be trying every second Monday and see how it goes. I'm sorry for doing this, but I just don't have a choice. In return, I think I will be able to post some of my unfinished work file instead in this' place next Monday so maybe some of you will enjoy that.
Anyhow, until the next time.
