It was pandemonium. As soon as Harry had given his signal and he and his friends subsequently cast those five Reducto´s, almost immediately several of the long shelves containing unnumbered prophecies, fulfilled and unfulfilled, began to collapse. As the shelves began to fold into themselves bringing thousands of small glass orbs cascading down to meet the surface and face immediate destruction, Harry and friends desperately scrambled to get out of the Hall of prophecies as soon as possible, lest they be buried under thousands of layers of shattered glass.
Miraculously, they all managed to escape, bearing at most a few scratches. As soon as everyone had stumbled out of the ruined room Harry muttered a Colloportus at the Door, locking it. As he slowly moved to calm himself, Harry felt a slight weight in his pocket, one that he had not noticed before. It was the prophecy, and it had improbably survived the hectic turn of events without breaking. Slowly, Harry moved to examine the thing that was apparently the entire reason Voldemort had lured him into the Ministry. Remarkably, it was without even a single scratch and the only thing it contained were several wisps of smoke, swirling around almost lazily in the small container. It transfixed Harry and in the darkest corner of his mind, he could almost empathize why Voldemort would want it – not only did it apparently hold critical Information about both of them, but it was also incredibly intriguing to look at. However, Harry mused, the Dark Lord would almost certainly not be one to find the aesthetic of the Prophecy intriguing.
As soon as he had begun to examine the small glass orb however, the strained voice of Hermione quietly called out to him. "We have to move, quickly! There is no telling how long the chaos in there will hold them." Her voice was shaking, and even though she had no external injuries from their encounter with the Death Eaters, it was obvious the events that transpired had shaken her quite a bit. Harry nodded in response. He himself was under no delusions that the mess they had caused would hold their attackers for more than a few minutes. Even though you could say many things about the Death Eaters, their skill and magical prowess, especially that of Malfoy and Lestrange was nothing to scoff at.
As the small group continued their hurried walk through the winding corridors and seemingly endless number of rooms in the Department of Mysteries, Harry begun to wonder. If what Lucius hinted at was true, it meant that Sirius was almost certainly not in the clutches of Voldemort and the visions he´d been having were simply Illusions, used by the Dark Lord to trick him into retrieving the prophecy. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. However, before jumping to conclusions he should verify that Sirius was truly unharmed, and thus his priority would remain the same: getting out of the Ministry, thus ensuring the safety of his friends and then trying to contact Sirius directly.
Whilst he was planning the best course of action, Harry did not pay the attention to his surrounding that he probably should have given their current situation and so his train of thought ground to a halt once he realized that their little group had somehow found their way into the same chamber they had briefly been in once before during their initial infiltration of the Department of Mysteries. It still looked the same, with wide, dark stone stairs falling periodically in height to form a structure reminiscent of an Amphitheater, albeit be at an incredibly ancient one. In the middle was still the same eerie archway, made of cracked stone that looked older than even Hogwarts, filled with a veil that almost seemed alive, swaying in an unseen wind. Before he could better assess the situation however, a voice in his back made him jump. It was one he would recognize instantly – one doesn't forget people that desperately want you dead after all.
Whilst Harrys group slowly made their way through the underbowels of the Department, the remaining Death Eaters had not been idle. Freeing himself as quickly as possible from the mess the Potter brat had made Lucius debated their next course of action. Loathe as he was to admit it, the boy had once again surpassed his expectations and ruined his carefully laid out strategy. It was originally planned to simply overpower the boy, get the Prophecy and then present it to the Dark Lord. However, now he considered to simply call in their Master. Even though he knew the punishment for his failure would be severe, the punishment for not informing their Lord of the current circumstances and simply returning with reports of a total failure would be even more harsh. His mind made up, Lucius turned to the others, sneering at several of which were still struggling to get every bit of glass from themselves and hissed "Pursue the boy. He must be taken alive! Kill the others for all I care but don't harm the boy. It stands for reason that he still has the Prophecy after all. In the meantime, I'm going to inform our Lord about the situation." Without waiting for a response, he activated his emergency Portkey and left the other Death Eaters in the destroyed Hall of prophecies, scrambling to fulfill his order.
"Well, well, well, it seems my loyal followers were once again no match for you. I wonder why that is?" the voice almost hissed. Harry shivered slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck rose and he whirled around only to come face to face with none other than he expected: his parents' murderer. As he slowly inched his hand closer to his wand, he narrowed his eyes and bit back "Oh I don't know? Maybe because your "loyal followers" mostly consist of a bunch of inbred morons who wouldn't even be able to compare to a group of first years in terms of magical skill?" Harry knew that provoking Voldemort probably wasn´t the smartest thing he could do, but to be fair he never was one for rationality. Uncharacteristically, Voldemort seemed to curb his anger, the only sign of his irritation being the slight narrowing of his eyes. Almost instantly however, his face shifted into a grotesque masque, forming what amounted to a truly terrifying sinister smirk on the unnatural, snake-like face. "Why just take a look around you then! Seems your friends couldn't quite stand up to my "inbred morons" after all" he said boisterously. With a mounting feeling of dread Harry turned around to see what he had already suspected: whilst he was busy trading barbs with Voldemort, several of the man's minions had moved to hold his friends hostage.
As he took stock of the situation around him, it began to dawn on Harry how truly hopeless the predicament he found himself in was. With all of his mates detained he was under no delusions that he could stand up to Voldemort in a fight for long. Even though he had bested the man several times already, Harry was not arrogant enough to not acknowledge that most of the time it was because of a heavy amount of luck. Considering his options available, Harry slowly turned back around to Voldemort and bit out "So you want the prophecy then I assume?" The man's smirk widened almost imperceptibly. "Very astute. Now hand it over and I might consider letting your friends live." Seeing no other options, Harry slowly moved to hand Voldemort the small glass orb, before a frantic voice made him stop. "Don't! Even if he lets us go, there's no way he´s going to let you leave as well. He´s wanted you dead since your birth! Do you think just giving him the prophecy will change that?" It was Hermione, who had wrestled herself out of the chokehold Bellatrix had had her in for just long enough to call out to Harry, before being brought to heel once again by the snarling witch. Harry however was undeterred and raised his hand to offer Voldemort the prophecy, quietly muttering to himself "Sorry. But if there's even the slightest chance that I'm going to get you guys out of here, I will take it, no matter the cost." And with his decision made, he handed Voldemort the object that he so desired.
As soon as Voldemort's hands touched the small glass orb, several things happened at once. The doors to the chamber they had been in for their whole confrontation burst open with a loud bang and in streamed several members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Dumbledore and Sirius. Immediately, Voldemort reacted. With unnatural speed he roughly grabbed Harry and pressed his Wand against the young Potter's neck, whilst slipping the prophecy into his robes. "Not one step further, or your precious Boy-who-lived will only be remembered as a blood stain on the floor" he hissed. Instantly the would-be rescuers froze, clearly not actually having expected Voldemort himself to be in the chamber and in such a situation of power nonetheless, with Harry as his hostage. "Come now Tom" Dumbledore exclaimed. "You are outnumbered and even more Aurors are on the move right now. Surely even you can see that you are out of your depth?" he calmly stated. However, his voice had a strained edge to it, clearly indicating that the situation they had found themselves in was quite unexpected for the Order of the Phoenix and its Leader. Voldemort in turn merely laughed, a cruel und unnatural sound "Out of my depth? You must be going senile in your old age Dumbledore! No matter how many of your loyal supporters come, they will be unable to do anything at all as long as I have your savior." Without waiting for a response, he moved to speak to Harry "But I must thank you Potter! Where you not such a fool, so blinded by emotions, so eager to save your precious godfather, I never would have captured you here so easily! You see, Potter, loath as I am to admit it, it seems I am simply unable to rid myself of you. No matter what I try, you always survive just like the annoying little cockroach you are. And so, I thought to myself: If I can´t do it, why not have the primordial forces themselves a try? After all, the only one truly immortal am I, no matter how much you seem to defy death."
Without giving anyone time to process what he just said, Voldemort slashed his wand at Harry, banishing him at enormous speeds towards the Veil. The action caused Sirius to cry out, trying to summon Harry back to him with a desperate Accio, but it was already too late. Harry had passed through the Veil – and incredibly fell right through and emerged on the other side as if nothing had happened.
The moment Harry went flying through the air, several thoughts shot through his head. He knew that the Veil he was moving towards at a rapid pace had to be bad news- otherwise Voldemort wouldn´t have sounded so smug before he banished him. However, before any other thoughts could form in his mind, Harry felt a sudden, incredibly cold sensation, one that penetrated throughout his entire body. Curiously, he could also hear a very brief, sharp scream of agony, before the coldness passed and his back met solid stone. He had passed through the Veil unharmed. Calming himself as fast as he could, he quickly drew his wand and moved around the Veil to face Voldemort and the reinforcements of the Order that were still standing at the entrance, looking at him in disbelief. "And what exactly was that supposed to accomplish, huh?" he asked Voldemort mockingly. "Impossible!" the man raged. "Not a single soul in existence has ever returned when thrown through the veil! So how could it be that –" Voldemort began to shout before suddenly stopping. Taking the apparent confusion of the man as their cue to attack the Order begun to engage the Death Eaters that had detained Harry's friends, making easy work of them as they were all quite shocked due to Harry survival and could not counter quickly enough. As soon as they were suitably incapacitated, most of the Order formed a tight circle around Voldemort, whilst several others, including Sirius, moved to check on Harry and his friends. Dumbledore looked at Harry for a brief second, ensuring that he was unharmed before turning to Voldemort, who still hadn´t moved from his position. "Seeming that your latest ploy has also failed, how about you finally – ". That was as far as he got however, as one of the members of the Order fired a Stupefy at the Dark Lord, not content with waiting to arrest the monster that had plagued them for ages. As soon as the spell came into his vicinity however, Voldemort reacted.
He slashed his wand in the direction of the spell, parried it and send it back with such a force that the simple stunning spell lifted the caster into the air and smashed him into the stone walls of the chamber a few meters behind him with a sickening crunching noise. Before anyone could react, Voldemort suddenly screamed in what appeared to be ecstasy, his magical power accumulating around him, forming a vortex of pure power, incredibly dark and oppressing. Harry, who had been standing in the background observing the events with Sirius and his friends, was horrified. He ran towards Dumbledore and shouted to him "How is he so powerful?! It was never this bad the last few times I confronted him!" Dumbledore's voice was strained and barely noticeable over the raging winds caused by the raw power that surrounded Voldemort "I have several theories, but those are not the main issue right now! Quick, we have to evacuate!" Nodding, Harry gestured to the others who came running over to him, fighting against the storm. Dumbledore meanwhile called Fawkes, who begun to transport people to safety in rapid succession, appearing again and again in a flash of fire.
Soon, everyone but Dumbledore had been whisked away to Hogwarts. Fawkes appeared a last time to bring his master to safety, but before the Phoenix could take him, a wave of pure darkness that had built up around Voldemort burst forth, freezing Fawkes for a second before his innate resistance against dark magic could counter the effect and forming a spear that hurled itself at Dumbledore with unnatural speed, piercing his leg before he could even react. The aging Headmaster cried out in agony, before Fawkes finally broke through the immobilization and disappeared with his master in a last flash of fire.
As soon as Fawkes appeared with Dumbledore, the man was brought to a bed in the Infirmary, the room bustling with activity and filled with other members of the Order. Even though barely any of them sustained any injuries, the events of the evening, especially Voldemort's incredible show of power had shaken many. Madam Pomfrey spotted Dumbledore and moved to treat his grave leg wound that hat begun to fester almost immediately, the skin around the wound turning black in rapid succession. Before she could administer any potential treatments however, Dumbledore jabbed his wand at his leg in a harsh motion, halting the spread of the blackened skin. Before Poppy could admonish the headmaster or ask him what happened, the man gestured to Harry, who was standing closely, conversing rapidly with Sirius in a hushed voice. As Harry quickly finished his conversation and moved to follow Dumbledore's beckon, the man spoke to the healer "Could you give us a bit of privacy please? I know you don't like not treating your patients immediately my dear, but it is incredibly urgent." The matron mustered Dumbledore for a few moments before huffing. "Very well. 10 minutes and not one second longer." The headmaster smiled genially. "Of course Poppy. I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your duties for long after all." And with one last warning look at the two men, the healer left to care for other members of the order.
As soon as Harry was alone with Dumbledore, the aging Headmaster turned to Harry and begun to speak, in his tone a sense of urgency that was very uncharacteristic for the usually patient man. "Listen Harry and listen well, because I fear I don't have much time left. I'm sure you've noticed that my leg looks slightly different. it is hard to miss after all" Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "What you have to understand however, is that the rot should be spreading rapidly right now. I managed to arrest the spreading for a while, but I know in relative certainty that I have less than an hour left." Harry froze. "What?" he hissed. "Surely there is something we can do to- ", however Dumbledore interrupted him before he could continue. "No. I´m familiar with this curse. It is an ancient rotting curse that feeds on magic itself, namely that of the affected. It is quite similar to Fiendfyre in that regard. I´ve only managed to stop the spread by essentially centering most of my magic in my leg. As soon as the curse gets trough that, well …" he trailed of, but Harry understood. "You will die" he whispered. "Exactly" Dumbledore nodded. "The nature of this particular curse is why even my dear old friend Fawkes will be powerless to stop the it. Legendary his tears may be, but an ability to replenish one´s magical reserves sadly cannot be counted amongst their abilities. Now, normally such a curse would be taking quite a long time to get through my admittedly, forgive the boasting, quite large reserves, but it seems the ferocity of this one is just an indicative of Voldemort's newfound power."
At the mention of his arch-nemesis, Harry stiffened. "Do you know what happened in that chamber? He was never this powerful before! And that was only his aura. He didn´t even cast anything!" Dumbledore seemed to sink into himself, before answering "I have a theory. But to understand it, you must first know what a Horcrux is. Such an object is classified under soul magic. To create a Horcrux, one has to split their own soul trough the act of murder and then impart that piece of soul into a separate object. I'm sure you still remember the diary from your second year?" Harry nodded, and immediately came to an obvious and horrifying conclusion. "It was a Horcrux, wasn´t it. That's why Diary-Tom said that he was "more than a memory"." "Precisely" Dumbledore answered. "The last important detail about Horcruxes is that they are extremely resilient. To destroy one, you would have to resort to Fiendfyre, Basilisk venom, the killing curse or" and he paused and looked at Harry directly "as I suspect, coming into direct contact with the primordial forces themselves, like falling through a veil connected to the realm of Death itself."
Harry was speechless. Before he could say anything, Dumbledore spoke again, confirming his worst theories. "Your scar Harry. I had suspected for quite some time that's it was more than a simple reminder of that night in 1981. Simple curse scars, even those caused by extremely dark magic don't usually allow the one that caused them to send their victim visions trough them after all." He paused for a second and looked at Harry, who looked slightly overwhelmed with everything that was suddenly revealed to him. "Now I'm sure you're wondering what everything I just told you has to do with Tom´s exceptional spike in power. I believe that just as he was able to influence your through the horcrux in your scar, you, or more precisely your mother's protection, had influenced him as well. I'm positive you remember the exceptionally violent results the attempt Quirinus had made to touch you in your first year produced. Your mother's protection likely had a similar debilitating effect on the horcrux within you, albeit not as violent, stopping it from simply continuously trying to possess you." "Like the diary did with Ginny?" Harry asked for clarification. Dumbledore nodded. "Now, when Voldemort created himself a new body at the end of the Triwizard Tournament using your blood as one of the core ingredients, it established a bond between you. Almost certainly this, combined with the Horcrux within your scar, even though it was weakened, allowed Voldemort to send you the visions you've been plagued with for the last year. But in turn, it also allowed your mothers protection to affect Voldemort, just as it did with the Horcrux. This likely had the same dampening effects on the magical potential and power of Tom´s new body. It should have had much more of that power than he displayed during the last year, being the result of a very cost-intensive ritual – it demanded Peter´s entire hand after all. You have to understand Harry, that when you were flung through that Veil, it should have taken your life following everything we know about it – but you survived. However, when you were pushed through the Veil, it, at least according to my theory, did take a life – not yours, but that of the piece of soul in your scar. And whilst that was an unbelievably lucky circumstance, it also had the side-effect of removing the dampener on Voldemort's power your mothers protection inflicted, since you are now no longer constantly connected to him." Dumbledore sighed. "Still, you have to remember that as of now this is only a theory, but it would also explain why Tom stiffened for quite some time before retaliating only upon being attacked. He was most likely overwhelmed by the sudden exorbitant amount of power that was so abruptly at his disposal.
Harry was at a loss. The theory Dumbledore had proposed made terrifying amounts of sense. But now the situation he had suddenly found himself threatened to overwhelm him. Not only had the man that hunted him since birth suddenly become unbelievably more powerful, but the sole man that was until now the rock that stood against him remained mere hours before dying. Desperately, he asked Dumbledore "Is there even anything I can do against him now? How am I supposed to do something against him, when even before he got this strong, I only survived because of luck?!" Dumbledore furrowed his brows. "Don't be so harsh with yourself my boy. You could have barely survived one encounter with a man as dangerous as Riddle based purely one luck. The fact that you´ve managed to best him several times already shows that you are much more capable than you think yourself of." By now the man had sat up in his bed and was smiling brightly at Harry, who was blushing slightly. Shifting around on his seat, he responded "Thank you sir." After a short pause he continued "But that still doesn´t change the fact that I'm even more outmatched now!" Dumbledore however was still smiling. "That might be true as of now, but even though I have not much time left, that doesn´t mean I can't help to even the playing field a bit. To start with, I want you to disarm me."
Harry looked at his mentor in disbelief. "Disarm you, sir? I doubt that that would be beneficial in your current state!" Dumbledore however remained steadfast. "Listen to me Harry. You must disarm me, and when were done here gather your cloak and my wand and seek out the Book "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" in my office. You might find "The Tale of the Three Brothers" to be especially stimulating" he finished with a slight smile. Seeing that there would be no talking Dumbledore out of his decision, Harry reluctantly drew his wand and leveled it at the wizened man. Softly he intoned Expelliarmus and watched as Dumbledore's wand was torn out of the loose grip the man had on it. As soon as it came to rest in Harry's free hand, he experienced a short and sudden jolt of power. It was incredibly brief, but impossible to miss. Dumbledore, who had slumped slightly further his bed as soon as the wand left his possession looked at Harry curiously. "So it is as I thought. Only a descendant of the Peverell's would be able to unlock the true potential of the Hallows." Centering himself the old man cleared his throat to recapture Harry attention. "Now that that is dealt with, there remains only so much I can do to help you. If only I had acted sooner…" the man trailed of looking into the distance, equal amount of sadness and unspoken regrets warring across the man's face. It was a sobering experience for Harry seeing his mentor, a man that to him had always been unshakable, looking so defeated. Even so, before he could offer a response Dumbledore seemed to forcibly shake himself out of his sadness and spoke to Harry with seemingly renewed vigor and strength that betrayed the frailty of his failing body "Still ,there remains one last someone that will be able to help you. It does require his agreement, but I am positive that he will be delighted to help you".
Harry looked at Dumbledore in disbelief "You don't mean …". The headmasters eyes twinkled as he looked at his student and exclaimed "Fawkes!". As soon as the phoenix´s name had left his masters lips it appeared above the two men in a flash of fire. The old warlock looked at the mystical creature with a warm smile "Welcome back old friend. I fear that this is almost certainly the last time we will see each other. Ah, I will definitely miss this …". In response the phoenix thrilled softly, the usually uplifting song of the phoenix carrying a haunting sadness with it. Dumbledore shook his head. "Don't blame yourself my old friend. Without you who knows how many of us could have made it out of there alive. You've saved many lives today and mine is a price I am more than willing to pay for that." The old man chuckled. "Death is but the next great adventure, after all." The Phoenix remained silent for a few seconds before singing once more , this time accompanied with the same uplifting effects Harry had come to expect from the majestic sound. Dumbledore smiled. "Still, there is a reason I called you to me this one last time. You know what I mean don't you?" In response, Fawkes, who until now had been hovering above the two men, descended and perched atop of the post of Dumbledore´s bed, his eyes trained on Harry. The Phoenix scrutinized Harry for a few seconds, making him squirm uncomfortably under the intense gaze of the mystical creature. The sole focus of such a grand and powerful being made Harry feel insignificant, and he knew that should Fawkes find him lacking he could offer no resistance. He needn't have worried however, as just a few seconds later the phoenix´s eyes sharped and he apparently made to a decision.
Pushing himself of the bedpost where he had been perched, Fawkes took one last mournful look at his master of the previous roughly 60 years and began diving towards Harry at incredibly speed. Harry eyes widened and before he could even question what was happening, Fawkes met Harry body and disappeared. As soon as the phoenix was gone several things happened at once. Upon the forfeiture of his bond to his familiar, Dumbledore slumped into his bed, the loss taking a heavy toll on his failing body. Harry on the other hand experienced several unfamiliar sensations. His entire being was filled with sense of peace and for the first time since the confrontation in the ministry he felt calm. Even so, Harry quickly took note that his right arm seemed to be burning up, the temperature increasing rapidly. Curious, he freed the arm from his robes to get a better look at it only to be shocked by what he saw. The entire arm seemed to be glowing dimly and was covered in what appeared to be depictions of several tree branches, reminding Harry of tattoos he had seen occasionally on a passerby whilst working in the garden of the Dursleys. Unlike a regular tattoo however, the branches seemed to be moving slightly, swaying in an unseen wind. Following the mark with his eyes, it reached from Harry wrist up his entire arm and disappeared after his shoulder into his robes, suggesting there was even more on his chest. Yet, before he could confirm that theory, a sudden movement in the area around his shoulder captured Harrys attention. There, nestled amongst the branches was Fawkes, the phoenix having turned to look at Harry.
So enraptured was he with all these new sensations, Harry had completely forgotten about Dumbledore, until the man's rasping coughs brought him back to the grim situation. Alarmed, Harry rushed to the headmasters bedside. "Are you ok sir ?" he asked worryingly. The man looked at Harry with glistening eyes and spoke "That was one of the most beautiful things I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing." Turning his eyes to look at the bird sitting amongst the branches on Harry arm, he continued "Thank you old friend, for allowing me to witness such a spectacular event." In response the legendary bird begun to move within the tattoo before suddenly bursting forth from within Harry skin and perching on his shoulder. The old headmaster stared at his erstwhile companion in wonder. "Truly, magic is a fascinating thing. Even after all my years it never fails to surprise me."
Visibly regaining his composure Dumbledore became serious once more. "I have done all I can. Still, I believe it would benefit you immensely to know of the locations I assume some of his Horcruxes are at. You will find several memories in my office, along with some notes about them. Fawkes will guide you to them, considering –" that was as far as Dumbledore got however, as the curse finally tore through the last of his reserves. The old man's body stiffened and he looked at his student, one he almost considered to be his own grandson one last time. He whispered "I'm sorry" and with his last words spoken, the withering curse Voldemort had hit him with barley a few hours ago reached the old man's heart and claimed its due – taking with it the life of one of the greatest wizards of the last century.
Voldemort looked at the destruction wreaked in the Death chamber. The old stone walls had several deep cracks running through them and the stairs where almost completely leveled, in their place a slope consisting of rubble from the original stairs and several pieces of the ceiling which had come loose upon being confronted with Voldemort's raw magical force. The only thing that had survived the onslaught was the archway containing the fabled Veil of Death, the cracked appearance of the stone it consisted of betraying their unnatural durability. Taking stock of the situation around him the Dark Lord spotted his followers in the far end of the room, huddled together behind a strong shield powered by several of his death eaters. Even so, they likely only survived because of the substantial distance between him and them during his outburst. Almost as if to prove his theory, Voldemort noticed the body of one of his followers a few seconds later, lying in the rubble just a few meters away. Moving closer to inspect it, he immediately ascertained that she was dead. Her chest had been ripped open, likely from one of the pieces of debris flung around during his eruption of power. Furthermore, her body appeared to be broken in several locations, the spine twisted in an unnatural way. Nonetheless, even with all her disfigurations Voldemort could identify her without any problems, the woman's long and curly black hair easily marking her as Bellatrix Lestrange. Looking at the mangled corpse of his most devoted follower, Voldemort mused that her desire to be near him at all times had ironically made her pay the ultimate price. The boy that had once been Tom Riddle might have felt a stab of remorse at being responsible for the death of his most ferocious of followers. Voldemort however felt nothing more than a small pang of regret for losing one of his most valuable tools.
Soon, the Dark Lord was torn out of his contemplation by the hesitant voice of Lucius Malfoy, who had separated himself from the other death eaters and looked at his master unsurely, the man´s exorbitant show of power having scared and awed the Malfoy Lord to equal measures. He begun "What would you have us do my Lord? Now that you have the prophecy is there anything I can do to –" before being struck by the Dark Lord with a silent Crucio. Despite being held under the torture curse for mere seconds, it rendered the man nearly catatonic, the curse having such power that it tore through his considerable tolerance for pain build up from the many years of serving under the Dark Lord effortlessly. Voldemort meanwhile was looking at his wand idly, considering that he would have to get a grip on his newfound power quickly, before he damaged his underlings too much to be of use to him. Once Lucius had recovered slightly, the Dark Lord seized the man by his robes and spoke to him "You will be silent. It is because of your incompetence that the prophecy was nearly lost to me, simply because you were to incompetent to apprehend a boy who hasn´t even finished his schooling yet. If you know what's best for yourself you will cease your pathetic attempts to get into my good graces with your constant boot-licking and actually fulfill the tasks that I give you. Have I made myself clear?" By now the Dark Lords voice had morphed into a sinister hiss and the air began to thrum with barely repressed power. The head of the Malfoy family, beside himself with fear, could only nod. Sneering at the terrified man, Voldemort tossed him aside and turned to address the rest of his followers that had survived the events. "My friends" he began, easily slipping back into the charismatic behavior of Tom Riddle "today's events have been a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. Still, my new … capabilities have left my previous plans inadequate. Thus, we will lay low for now until they have been suitably adjusted. But fear not! Before long we will be at the top, at our righteous place! You have seen the power I now possess firsthand. Is there anyone who could stand against me now?! No one! And so I ask you: will you once again pledge your loyalty to me?" With a resounding cheer the death eaters proclaimed their support for their master. Even Lucius, who by now had recovered mostly from the brutal encounter with Voldemort's Crucio joined in, emboldened by his masters convincing words. In response the Dark Lord cried "Then ley down your arms, submit to me and be reborn stronger than you could ever imagine!" His servants, pumping with adrenaline after witnessing their lords incredibly power instantly knelt down and exposed their arms, exposing the dark mark.
In their excitement none of the death eaters had paid any notice to Voldemort's specific wording. The word "submit" was carefully chosen by the man, since the dark mark was a true testament to Voldemort's ingenuity and used the ancient branch of parselmagic as a baseline. Thus, like most almost forgotten arts of the magic variety it was heavily dependent upon intent. By declaring their subservience to him, Voldemort had all he needed to make the death eaters quite literally his slaves. Holding his right hand aloft, the Dark Lord conjured a small ball of flames in his palm which appeared to be constantly trying to escape, not unlike when the hellish flames of Fiendfyre would try to destroy their caster. However, unlike the vibrant yellow and orange color regular fire possessed, the one in Voldemort's palm was an uncharacteristic onyx, the infinite blackness drawing in the kneeling death eaters. As his followers watched transfixed, Voldemort let the fireball grow bigger for a few more seconds before suddenly closing his palm, crushing the flame. The few sparks that escaped from his hand flew towards the kneeling wizards. Upon reaching the group, the sparks seemed to almost come alive, each one sinking into a dark mark of one of the kneeling figures. Subsequently, several of them began wailing in intense agony, their body's not acquainted with the intense feeling of corruption that the spark brought with it. The ensuing complications when several of the death eaters own magic tried to combat the foreign intrusions left two of them dead, their body's internal magic destroying them from the inside, unable to handle the malignant foreign magic that came with Voldemort's gift of power. Nonetheless, Voldemort's understanding of the ancient arcane arts held true, for the surviving death eaters felt an incredible boost of power once their pain receded. Their dark marks, once tinged with a reddish color unless active now gleamed with the same onyx that Voldemort's conjured flame had been. As his followers marveled at their newfound strength and looked at him in awe, the dark lord surveyed them, not surprised that all of his most powerful tools like Malfoy and Rookwood had survived the intrusion of his magic. Commanding their attention with a sudden and loud bang of his wand he spoke to them "I have given each of you a sliver of my own power for you to command on your own. But not everyone can handle my gifts." Voldemort looked at the two corpses, carelessly pushed aside by their erstwhile comrades with thinly veiled disgust. "So be warned – should you begin to stray from our path, you will find the results … unpleasant" he finished with a low hiss.
Most of the wizards appeared to be oblivious to the true meaning of his warning, but the Dark Lord could still spot the slight widening of Lucius' eyes, indicating that the man had understood the side effects that came with Voldemort's gift – should any of them try to betray their master, their bond of servitude would ensure the immediate death of the would-be betrayer, killed by their own internal magic. For Voldemort, it was perfect: their increased power would make them all the more valuable in the battlefield and the bond ensured that that power could not be used to harm him.
Warning given, Voldemort looked over his assembled troops that had survived the night and spoke to them one last time "Now I shall plan, and soon all those that foolishly cling to their light shall feel true despair as I snuff out their lives, one by one, so that not even their supposed savior can help them!" A resounding cheer went trough the rows of Death eaters even as Voldemort turned from them, uncaring for their admiration, taking a few more steps before his being twisted and disappeared, puncturing trough the fortified Anti-Apparition wards the Ministry of Magic possessed effortlessly.
AN : I´m not a native speaker of the English language so please leave a comment should a passage of the text sound awkward and I will strive to correct such mistakes.
Harrys Phoenix tattoo is inspired by a similar occurrence in "Whispers of a Raven" by "TheBlack´sResurgence" so credit for that goes to him. His stories are fantastic and you should definitely check them out.