IV. Many Meetings
It is always nice to wake up in the morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the decadent smell of a delicious breakfast. Of course, this is assuming that you are to partake in this delicious morning feast. Unfortunately for Harry Potter, this meal was not meant for him; or any meals for that matter. It would seem that life had returned to some semblance of normality in Number 4 Privet Drive. Vernon did not mutter as much and his abnormally calm demeanour had vanished in favour of his usual grumpy self. Petunia's screeches could be heard again, along with Vernon's bellows at his nephew. The only one that seems unaffected, that being because he had not changed at all, was Dudley. He continued to bully and stuff his face whenever he had the chance, accompanied with the occasional temper tantrum. Harry smiled sadly. Yes, things are back to normal.
Harry decided that he had been staring at the ceiling long enough and got out of bed. He smiled at Hedwig who was just waking herself. With a small pop, she changed into her human form.
"Good morning Harry", she said sleepily.
"Morning Hedwig", he replied.
"Ready to face another day?" she asked.
"Not really, but I am a Gryffindor after all. Courage and all that", he said with a chuckle.
Lord Galdir thanked the powers that be as he settled in his usual spot in front of Number 4. Thankfully, Elves don't have to sleep as much as humans do, otherwise I would be drained by now, he thought. In fact, Elves did not have to sleep. They chose to, since they dreamed as much as humans did, and they often wanted to escape reality, even if it was for a few hours. But their bodies did not have the need to sleep. In order to rest, the Elves had perfected meditation, which allowed them to recover their strength while maintaining the awareness of the world around them. Conjuring a small pillow, Lord Galdir sat down and drifted into a deep meditative state, his mind focused in all things around him, especially on a certain 15 year old boy that had just decided the get out of bed.
Harry's day progressed in a similar fashion as the three previous days: he showered, quickly had breakfast avoiding his relatives as much as possible, and then spent the rest of the day locked in his room doing assignments and studying with Hedwig. He quickly discovered that not only did she have all of his memories, but it also seemed that she was blessed with an intellect similar to Hermione's. Add the temper that she already had, and it is not too difficult to understand how Harry had managed to fit a review of most spells and theory from past years in addition to finishing most of his assignments. He was pleased with the results though. Already he was beginning to derive new variants of some spells, and was making new applications for the ones that he did not know.
Thanks to Hedwig's encouragement, he had been able to review the battle of the Ministry, as well as other instances in which he had to defend himself with magic and had arrived to the conclusion that although he did depend on luck to some degree, it was mostly his skill and determination that had seen things to a successful end. He also acknowledged and finally understood that the deaths of all those that had fallen were not his fault. He had done all that he could do with the limited information that he had at his disposal, and all things considered, he had not done bad at all.
The day slowly waned into the night, and Harry sat contemplating the blood red sky in front of him. Having finished all his assignments, with the exception of Potions, Harry sat there just content to admire the show that Mother Nature displayed every day. So beautiful, he thought. It is a shame that we don't take time to notice these things anymore. Deciding that he had been inside long enough, Harry grabbed a jacket, his holly wand, told Hedwig where he was going, and left the house to go for a nice walk as he continued to admire the spectacle of colour as the sun slowly hid behind the horizon.
His meanderings lead him far away from Privet Drive, and before he realized it, he had arrived to a small playground. By now the only light came from the street lamps and the moon and the stars. Deciding to stop here for a while, Harry walked in and sat on one of the swings, his gaze upwards as he admired the stars and constellations. He did not notice an old man with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles approach silently; and neither noticed the shadow of Lord Galdir as he sank into a nearby bush.
"It is a rather spectacular night, is not?" spoke Albus Dumbledore.
Harry startled by the old man's words, snapped from his staring and drew his wand, levelling it at Dumbledore.
"P-Professor! You scared me!" Harry stuttered as he tried to calm his racing heart.
"Yes, I am sorry about that. Sometimes I forget how absorbing the night sky can be to some people, myself included. How are you, Harry?" inquired Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling kindly.
"I am fine, Professor. I've been really productive lately. Finished most of my assignments, and have read a lot. Frankly, I am reminding myself of Hermione. How about you?" answered Harry. Albus smiled at the young man's comment.
"Yes indeed. But keeping the mind busy is something we all must do. Alas, I sometimes find myself with too much to do, and sometimes find myself wishing for a bit of mind-numbing boredom. But on this excellent night, I must say that I am quite well Harry, all things considered." He waved his left hand as he replied. Instead of the healthy flesh that Harry had last seen, there was a blackened, dead, thing attached to the Headmaster. Sitting on his finger was a ring, with a black jewel that sported a thin crack down the middle.
"Professor what–"
"What is it? Oh it is my hand Harry. Disgusting is it not? There is quite the tale behind it, but I am afraid it will have to wait for another time. For now, I would be honoured if you would join me on a small trip", and with that he offered his arm, his good one mind you, to Harry.
"Professor, before we leave, I was wondering if we could discuss something for a second. I'm afraid it's important and I don't think it can wait", said Harry.
Dumbledore nodded and sat on the swing next to Harry. Galdir's interest peaked, and he quickly focused his attention on the pair of wizards. Harry sighed, wondering where to begin.
"I usually find that the beginning is usually a good place as any to start Harry", said Dumbledore with a small smile.
"I think first I want to apologize for destroying your office professor. I really did not mean to—"
"Harry. It is I who should be apologizing more for the events of that night. They are just things Harry, trinkets of little value that can be repaired. What you lost, and what I have made you suffer however, cannot be repaired as easily", said Dumbledore, his eyes shining with sadness.
"I understand why you did what you did, professor. I guess that if I had had a more normal childhood then perhaps I would have reacted differently to the news. But the reality is that, and don't get me wrong I really do appreciate your concern, my relatives ensured that I never had a childhood. The things that I have seen have stripped me of many things. Things that until recently I had not fully acknowledged that I had lost. Nor had I had a chance to mourn them", he said softly.
Galdir felt his heart break at Harry's words. We are alike in so many ways, and yet he is by far the luckiest of the two, he thought as a single tear streaked his cheek. Dumbledore's eyes were also brimming with tears at the words of the young man that he had become so attached to.
"I guess what I'm trying to say Headmaster is that I forgive you for the mistakes that you have made. I know that you only wanted the best for me", he said.
That was all that it took for the composure of Albus Dumbledore to collapse. He rose from the swing and hugged Harry as tears streamed from his face.
"You truly are a great man, Harry Potter. Greater than I will ever be", he said.
Harry hugged the headmaster, as he felt his own tears start to fall from his emerald eyes. Galdir turned around as he erected a privacy ward. Having lived in shadow for so long had left him numb to many things, and yet that young human had managed to make Galdir feel things that he had not felt since the death of his wife. For the first time in many years, he felt hope and purpose begin to blossom in his heart.
"Thank you Harry. Words cannot express the gratitude of an old man at hearing your words of kindness and forgiveness", said Dumbledore once he had recovered some of his composure.
"I just have one request, professor", said Harry.
"Anything my boy", said Albus.
"No more covering things and pushing them aside. No more riddles", he said.
"Of course Harry. I am ashamed to admit that I lost my way. I failed to see you as the young man you are, and not what I hoped you to be. And I now realize the foolishness of such act, for you are so much more than I had ever dreamed you could be. I am honoured to call you my friend, Harry", said Albus.
"As do I, professor. As do I", said Harry.
"I guess that we can drop the formalities Harry. As long as we are alone, you may call me Albus", he said.
Harry's eyes widened in awe and appreciation.
"Thank you pr—… Albus", he stuttered.
Chuckling softly, Albus rose from his position and offered his arm to Harry, who smiled as he got up.
"May I ask were we are going?", inquired Harry.
"Why don't I just show you instead? Have you Side-Apparated before?" Harry shook his head. "Very well, grab my arm and hold on tight. I will do the rest." With that, Harry laid his hand on Dumbledore's outstretched arm and with a soft pop, they vanished.
Galdir rose from his hiding spot and approached the place that Albus and Harry had just occupied. After making sure that his emotions were under his control, he examined the air and smirked.
So very messy, this Apparition business. Ridiculously easy to follow, he thought. He then began waving his hands in a complex pattern as he muttered in Ancient Elvish. As it happened, while normal wizards had no way of following someone who Apparated without previous knowledge of the destination, this was not true for the Elves. Having developed Apparition as well as Transition, it was merely a matter of casting the appropriate charms to reveal the destination. Suddenly, a chord of blue light appeared in front of Galdir. Smiling, he grasped it and followed it, Transitioning into the night.
Harry landed hard on the ground as they arrived at their destination. He felt queasy, and his head spun violently, as his stomach threatened to expel its contents through his mouth. Steadying himself, Harry joined Dumbledore, who patiently waited for Harry to recover.
"I must say I am impressed, Harry. Most people throw up the first time around. I am guessing you are not particularly fond of this method of transportation?" asked Dumbledore with a smile.
"I cannot say I don't like it, Albus, but it is most definitely not a pleasant way to travel", answered Harry. How can somebody enjoy the feeling of being shoved into a small tube and then being pulled through it? thought Harry. Dumbledore smiled at his response and started walking. Neither of them noticed a figure that appeared silently behind them, for it had rapidly become invisible, courtesy of a couple of words in Ancient Elvish.
"Welcome to the lovely village of Budleigh Babberton", stated Dumbledore.
Harry followed Dumbledore as they walked on the silent streets, barely keeping up with the brisk pace that the old man was walking at.
"You are probably wondering why I brought you here today Harry", stated Dumbledore.
"Frankly, after all these years I just go with it." Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's reply.
"I have brought you here to meet and recruit an old colleague of mine. His name is Professor Horace Slughorn. As you may have undoubtedly noticed, we are one person short in the Hogwarts' staff." Dumbledore slowed down as they approached a darkened house.
"Wand out Harry", said Dumbledore as he drew his from a concealed location in his robes. Harry clutched his want tightly as they approached the entrance.
Behind them, Galdir simply stood ready to barge in should there be an attack.
The state of the house they entered was not unlike that of a house that had just been visited by a tornado. The furniture lay in pieces all around them, mixed with rubble that belonged to the walls that were filled with holes. Dumbledore muttered "Lumos", and the tip of his wand produced a faint light. Mimicking him, Harry also illuminated his wand, as the pair attempted to trudge through the destruction that was in front of them. Entering what would have been the sitting room; Dumbledore motioned Harry to stop, and pointed towards a thick, crimson substance that was dripping from the remains of the ceiling. Raising his blackened hand, Dumbledore scooped a drop of the substance with his fingers and then licked it. Harry was about to ask him what the substance was when he noticed something odd. In the midst of all this destruction, one would assume that no large objects would have been spared. Then again, one would be wrong in this particular case. Sitting in front of them, was a single plush chair that looked perfectly comfy and whole. Harry pointed at it with his wand, drawing Dumbledore's attention towards it. Walking carefully, Dumbledore poked the chair, which did the most un-chair like thing that Harry had ever seen: it complained!
The 'chair' then proceeded to unfold itself, revealing a man. Or at least what would be the result of attaching a man to the single largest belly you can possibly conceive. He was not particularly tall, or at least didn't appear to be. Then again, a belly of that size can mask many things. He wore traditional robes, with a waistcoat that threatened to declare war against whoever happened to be in front and release its deadly ammunition of buttons. His face was covered by a walrus-like silver moustache. So all in all, standing before Harry and Dumbledore was the fattest walrus-like man you can imagine.
"Blimey Dumbledore, that is not the way to treat an old man!" exclaimed the walrus-man.
"Well I must say you make for a convincing chair Horace", replied Dumbledore with a smile.
"What gave me away?" asked Slughorn.
"Well, I imagine that not many people would remain unsuspicious of a chair sitting on the remains of a house. The dragon blood was also a clever idea Horace", complimented Dumbledore.
"Yes, well, I haven't had time to change the upholstery. I just got here a mere three days ago. Being on the run is not as nice as one would imagine, especially for us elderly folk", said Slughorn.
"Yes quite true. How did you come by this place?" inquired Dumbledore.
"The muggle family that owns it is on vacation. It was a simple matter of casting a freezing charm on those contraptions they use for security and then redecorate the place. The problem was smuggling the piano without being seen", remarked Horace.
"Well, we would not want to leave this house looking like this for their owners now would we? Do you mind if I do the honours Horace?" Slughorn waved his hand at Dumbledore, giving him the go-ahead. Waving his wand, the shattered objects and walls of the house repaired themselves. After the spell was done, they stood in a lovely living room, next to a large, black piano. Harry noticed a number of photographs sitting on a nearby shelf. Of course, it wasn't the existence of the photographs that intrigued him. It was the fact that they moved.
"Horace, would you mind sharing with us why you went to such lengths to conceal yourself?" asked Dumbledore.
"Death Eaters, Albus! They have been trying to recruit me for the past month, and one can only say no to these people so many times. This is why I have been keeping on the move. The point of the house was to make it seem as if the Death Eaters had already been here", replied Slughorn.
"But wouldn't there be a Dark Mark floating above it then, sir?" asked Harry.
"He is right Horace. But where are my manners? Please allow me to introduce you to Harry Potter", Dumbledore motioned Harry forward as he spoke.
If you can imagine, or have been fortunate enough to see what a walrus looks like when its jaw drops down and his eyes open as wide as they can go, then you would have a very close image to what Horace Slughorn looked like as he gaped at the boy in front of him.
"Is he really? Harry Potter, my boy! How are you?" he asked jovially.
"I'm fine, sir" Harry stared at the excited old man with a face of utter confusion. Well, this is a first, he thought. Galdir, listening to all that was happening inside, had to cast a silencing charm around him so no one would hear the roars of laughter coming from the invisible elf.
"Good, goo..." the old man suddenly began staring at Harry's eyes. A shadow of grief seemed to cross his eyes for the briefest second.
"Sir? Are you alright?" asked Harry.
"Your eyes, they are–" "My mother's, yes", completed Harry.
"Horace, would you mind if I used the loo?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, yes, of course. But don't think I can't see what you are doing here, Dumbledore. The answer is still no!" he said. Harry turned to resume observing the photographs of the many witches and wizards that sat on the shelf.
"All mine. Ex-students I mean", commented Slughorn. "That is Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies; gives me free tickets whenever I want them", he mentioned as he pointed at the photograph of a witch riding her broom. "That is Barnabas Cuffe, editor at the Daily Prophet. Always asks my opinion on the day's news. And here is–"
"My mother", said Harry.
"Yes, dear Lily Evans. One of my brightest students", said Slughorn slowly. "Extremely talented for a muggleborn." Harry looked at him in annoyance.
"My best friend is a muggleborn and she is the brightest witch of her age."
"Oh, I didn't mean it as an insult, dear boy. I am not like those bigots obsessed with blood purity, merely an observation...". Slughorn had not stopped staring at Harry the entire time.
"And who is this, sir?" asked Harry, pointing towards a young man.
"That is Regulus Black, brother to the notorious Sirius Black, who was killed recently I believe. Shame, I would have liked the have the whole Black set", muttered Slughorn.
Harry was starting to get annoyed at the professor. He looked at him like he was a jewel, a prize that had to be obtained no matter the consequences. Thankfully, Dumbledore returned, holding a magazine in his hand. "Horace, would you mind if I took one of these", he waved the magazine. "I do like the knitting patterns." Horace nodded at Dumbledore.
"Well, Harry. I think it is time for us to leave", he said as he turned towards the door.
"Are you leaving so soon?" asked Slughorn.
"I think I know a lost cause when I see one, Horace. Pity, I would have considered it a personal triumph if you returned to Hogwarts. You are like Harry in that way, Horace, unique." Following Dumbledore Harry gave a quick nod at the dumbstruck professor and walked outside.
Dumbledore walked slowly, almost as if he was waiting for something to happen. Harry was about to ask him before Slughorn waddled as fast as he could to the door and called them.
"Fine! I'll do it. But I want Professor Merryweather's old office. And I also want a raise! These are mad times, you know!" he exclaimed.
Dumbledore nodded at him and waved, returning to his brisk pace.
"Albus, what just happened?" asked Harry.
"I am sorry for not telling you everything Harry. Professor Horace Slughorn is a man that values one thing above all others: power. He does not want the throne however. He is quite content to sit in the background, where there is more space to grow, if you catch my drift." Harry chuckled at this. "Although Horace by himself has little influence, it is the people that he knows and surrounds himself with that make him formidable. He is drawn to those who have fame and power, and as such, as you have probably noticed, he is drawn to you", explained Dumbledore.
"Yes, I did notice that", answered Harry.
"Being what you are Harry, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, you would be the crown jewel of Horace's collection."
"So you needed him to see me so he agreed to return to Hogwarts?" asked Harry.
"Indeed. It was imperative that he returned this year. As you also probably noticed Harry, Horace will try to collect you."
"And I am guessing that I should allow this?" asked Harry.
"Indeed. You are to allow this, Harry. It is of utmost importance that you gain his trust."
"Alright Albus. Can I ask why it is so important?" asked Harry.
"That is a conversation that is better had behind locked doors Harry. Ask me that again when you return to Hogwarts and I will answer your question", he answered. Harry nodded appreciatively.
"Now, I am aware that you may not be so fond of Apparating Harry, but it is the fastest way to travel, so if you would hold on to my arm again, we shall be on our way."
Harry braced himself for the tube feeling as the grabbed Dumbledore's arm as was quickly whisked away.
Galdir eyed the place where they had vanished, and quickly repeated the incantation to follow them. As soon as he had the strand of light in his hands, he froze it, and began pacing in front of it, deep in thought. What are you playing at here, Dumbledore? Yes, Horace is an excellent Potions Master, but that is not the reason you are bringing him back. And why are you encouraging him with Harry? What is it that you are looking for in Slughorn? It cannot be his talents, for you already have Snape, who is probably better than Slughorn ever was. His connections are not an option, you have more influence than he with all his contacts will ever have. Then what is your angle? Unless you are looking for something that he wishes to conceal. A trinket perhaps? Though he could very easily have gotten the answer from Dumbledore's thoughts, Galdir strongly objected to reading a person's mind without their permission. He skimmed the surface thoughts, but he never went any further. Being a Master Occlumens, Dumbledore made sure that his thoughts never ran close enough to the surface so Galdir could read them without breaking his rule. Shaking his head at the lack of answers, Galdir rose from the bench and unfroze the strand that he had made. He then followed it, disappearing into the night.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort paced restlessly in his private chambers in Riddle Manor. Things were progressing according to plan: his Death Eaters were terrorizing Britain, the Ministry was close to total collapse and he had forged allegiances with most of the Dark Creatures. His army had never been larger, yet the Dark Lord was uneasy. The body that he had crafted using Dark Magic two years ago was weak. His magic was extraordinary, of that there was no doubt, and he was strong physically, but his powers had not increased since his return. Usually, a wizard's power increase as they age. The limiting factor is that the body weakens, and as such cannot control that much power. However, Voldemort had not grown in power. He remained as he once was when he was alive. This worried him greatly. To add to his worries, his body seemed to be degrading somehow. He had gone through every incantation known to wizard kind and he had not been able to find something that will make his powers grow, or his body to stop deteriorating. He had reviewed the potion that brought him back to life, and it never mentioned these effects. Then again, it had never been tried with someone whose soul was as mangled as Voldemort's, nor was it tried with someone who had actually died. The potion was meant to restore a body from damage, not to craft a new one.
Voldemort's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of alarms, as the wards surrounding the Riddle House fell. His red eyes glowed in anger. A Death Eater ran in and fell to his knees. "What is it, Avery?" snapped Voldemort. "My Lord, someone is attempting to penetrate –" He never had the chance to finish his report, as he felt millions of white hot knives pierced his body. His screams filled the room and Voldemort's faced changed into one of pure pleasure. "Do you think, Avery that I have not noticed? Do really believe me stupid enough to not recognize the alarms that tell us when a ward has fallen? Do you believe me stupid, Avery?" asked Voldemort in malice. Through the pain of the curse, Avery managed to whimper "No", before passing out from the pain. Voldemort banished the slumped body and returned to the window, as he eyed a hooded figure destroying his wards.
The man moved his hands quickly, muttering incantation after incantation. His voice carried a heavy European accent that made his spells difficult to understand, yet no one could deny one thing: it also carried immense power. In the span of five minutes, the work of decades was destroyed. Death Eaters rushed to meet the one who dared trespass their Lord's property. Waving his hands and chanting quickly, the man threw all the Death Eaters back, casually batting away any stray spells with his bare hands. He strolled to the main door of Riddle Manor like someone on a holiday. As he opened the door, he was met with five different bolts of green light. Waving his hands to conjure a magical barrier, the man waited for the spells to impact it. There was a loud noise as the spells collided with the magical shield and vanished. Dispelling the shield, the man conjured ropes that shot from his hands like snakes. After each Death Eater was bound, he then knocked them unconscious with another spell. Walking casually, he repeated the procedure with each Death Eater that dared cross his path.
Clutching his wand with his thin, bone-white fingers, Voldemort stood behind his most loyal Death Eaters in the dining room. He heard as each one of his followers was subdued in a matter of minutes. He knew that they were outmatched. A trickle of fear began crawling its way up the Dark Lord's spine. Reassuring himself of his immortality, he squared himself towards the double door of the dining room, waiting for whoever it was to enter.
He didn't have to wait long, for moments later the doors were blown off their hinges, knocking out two Death Eaters in the process. Twelve different curses, including killing ones, sprung from the wands of the Death Eaters. The man simply waved his hand and conjured his shield, watching with pleasure as the Death Eaters froze at his deflection of the killing curse. He blasted through the twelve remaining followers, rendering them bound and unconscious in seconds. He then faced Lord Voldemort himself.
"Who are you and how dare you enter my house?!" hissed Voldemort.
"My name is not important, though I guess that you would like to call me something. In that case, call me Bedrager", the man bowed mockingly at Voldemort.
"What do you want?" asked Voldemort, his wand lowering ever so slightly.
"What do I want? No, Lord Voldemort. It is not what I want that is important. It is what you want. You want to stop your body from crumbling. You want your magic to continue growing. You want true immortality", stated Bedrager. His eyes glinted begin the hood of his cloak, and his mouth contorted into a cruel smile.
Voldemort blanched at the words. The man had just divulged each of his darkest secrets like they were every-day news. His face changed into a mask of pure rage. "I don't know how you found out about these things, but I will not allow you to divulge them. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The killing curse is fuelled by hatred. In order to be used successfully, you need to truly hate the person enough to see them dead. Voldemort's hate towards this man could have very easily eradicated entire cities with a single spell. A massive bolt of green light leaped from his wand, causing his arm to fly backwards as it recoiled from the force of the spell. Bedrager smiled as the light sped towards him. He uttered three words and a shining shield appeared in front of him. As soon as the light struck, a sound, not unlike that of a bell was heard, with enough power to smash all glass and wood objects that were nearby. There was a silence after the sound died, which was broken by a high, cold, cruel laugh.
Voldemort cringed at the laughter from Bedrager.
"Do you really think you can kill me, Voldemort?" he whispered dangerously. "I have power that you cannot even imagine. I have seen things that would make your body curl in fear, and I have faced true demons and defeated them. And you believe that such a petty spell as Avada Kedavra will kill me?" He walked forward slowly, basking in the pure horror that filled Voldemort. "But I am a kind, and will ignore your rude gesture. Now", he waved his hand and repaired two chairs that had been reduced to splinters. "Won't you join me for a cup of tea?" He then proceeded to conjure a teapot and two cups. Voldemort simply stood there, far too scared to move. "Now, Voldemort where are your manners? One must never ignore the common courtesies. I said sit." A force greater than any other that Voldemort had ever felt entered his body. He tried to fight against it, but it was as useless as trying to prevent an avalanche by pushing at the moving mass of dirt. He sat down, thoroughly exhausted and unable to resist the force of his aggressor. "Now, is that not better?" cooed Bedrager. He then proceeded to serve Voldemort a cup of tea. Knowing better than to refuse, Voldemort grabbed the cup when it was given to him, but did not drink from it. "Now that we are seated, we can have a discussion like civilized people. As you are undoubtedly aware, your body is weak. Oh, I am not doubting your physical strength, as I am sure it is quite, formidable", the last worth was said with mirth. "It is your magic that I am worried about, Voldemort. You have not grown and... is there something wrong with the tea? You know Voldemort, it is very poor manners to not drink what is offered to you, so drink." The force overcame Voldemort and he sipped at the tea.
It was good. In fact, it was probably the best tea that he had ever tasted.
"Much better. Now, like I was saying, your body has not grown magically, and that makes you weak. Also, it is degrading, and that just makes you even weaker. Powerless, like a new-born kitten to those who have grown in power and strength." His eyes glittered maniacally as he spoke. "I also know of your, means of remaining immortal", this last phrase was said with great disgust. Voldemort stiffened at the comment, and horror overtook him. "Now, now Voldemort, do not be afraid", cooed Bedrager as he slowly stroked the Dark Lord's bald head, not unlike a mother stroking her child to calm him down. "Why do you cringe in fear? Do you not trust me? Even after I have spared your life, fed you my tea, and offered to help you. Tut, tut. What to do about this?" he stroked his chin in fake contemplation. "Ah! I know! A gift! A trinket of my honesty", he grinned evilly. He then proceeded to speak very quickly in Latin. Voldemort felt his body stiffen, and then he felt it. Pain. Pain beyond anything that he had ever felt. Pain far more powerful than a thousand Cruciatus cast with absolute hatred. He should have passed out, he hoped to pass out, but he did not. He was left to endure this agony for what seemed hours.
As sudden as it had come, the pain vanished. What was left behind was something that Lord Voldemort had not felt since he had started his studies in the Dark Arts: power. Complete and absolute power. He felt stronger than he had ever felt in his life. Bedrager smiled, and allowed Voldemort to stand to test his strength. Grabbing his wand, Voldemort bellowed "REDUCTO!" Instead of the usual small hole that he would have made in the wall, there was a large crater, larger than he was tall. Waving his wand again, he repaired it.
"See, Voldemort. I mean you no harm. I only wish to help you achieve your goals", said Bedrager softly. "Speaking of goals, I do have some matters that I wish to discuss –" He was interrupted by a Blasting Hex that was thrown at him. His tea set exploded, followed by the chairs that he had repaired. He landed on his back, as Voldemort laughed.
"FOOL! You should not have given me so much power. Now, you will rue the day that you decided to attack me!" He began a spell, but could never finish it. Recovering quickly, Bedrager froze Voldemort.
Fighting off the freezing effects, Voldemort dodged a spell that was casually hurled at him. As he raised his wand for a second attack, his arms suddenly snapped to his sides, and his entire body rose. He tried to free himself, but he was locked in a vice grip that would not yield. This was followed by that same laughter that made his skin crawl with fear. Bedrager stood before him, his hand raised at him.
"You think that I am a fool, Voldemort? Why would I give you enough power to outmatch me? Do not take me for a stupid man. Do that and you will find that your life expectancy will be reduced greatly, regardless of how many backups you have. Do not forget, it was I who gave you that power and strength, and I can take it away!" He smiled as Voldemort began to writhe in pain, his howls almost drowning his laughter. "Now, look at what you have done. You destroyed my tea! CRUCIO!"
If Voldemort thought that the pain that had granted him and removed his newfound power was bad, he had quickly found out what was worse. The man's Cruciatus produced more pain than he even believed he could feel. Again, he felt his mind blacking out, but he felt a pull that prevented him from falling into blissful unconsciousness. The spell ceased, and Voldemort was left on the ground, panting. He tried to move, but his body would not respond.
"You can't even stand up, Voldemort. You call yourself the most powerful sorcerer in the world, yet you cannot endure a simple Cruciatus Curse. Let this be a reminder of what happens when you are ungrateful to me. Now" he flicked his hand and Voldemort's body rose. Another flick conjured a chair with straps. As soon as Bedrager lifted his body into the chair, Voldemort was restrained so he could not move anything but his head. "We are going to try this again. I will help you recover your power and prevent your pathetic excuse for a body. I will even help you get more troops for your little army of weaklings. All that I ask in return is your trust", his voice was filled with hate as he spoke. Voldemort felt his eyelids close as his body decided to give out. There was a loud smack as Bedrager slapped him. "You will black out when I tell you to!" he snapped. Voldemort's cheeks flushed in shame, but were quickly drained by the ever growing horror that filled him. "Since apparently you are incapable of even following the simplest of instructions, I will explain it as simply as I can", said Bedrager.
"I will give you powers and troops. You will give me your trust. Do you understand?" Voldemort nodded weakly.
"Good. Now, I realize that today has been a long day for you, so I shall leave you to rest. Do not fret over your precious Death Eaters. They shall awaken once I leave, and you wards shall be reconstructed. The bonds that hold you will also break once I leave. We will see each other again. Very soon", and with that, he turned on his heel, and left, leaving Voldemort more bewildered than he had ever been in his entire life. He fell from the chair that held him, only to have his senses assaulted as the same unbearable pain cursed through his body, restoring the powers that had been taken. This time, he was allowed to black out, and the most feared Dark Lord crumpled in a heap, exhausted from the pain he had endured.