Chapter 5
Voldemort's Plan
3 Hours Later
Diagon Alley was deserted. It always was around midnight. The last shop to close, Quality Quidditch Supplies, locked its doors hours ago and the Leaky Cauldron closed its bar at eleven. Who knew that a dark plot was about to unfold at this usually bustling and happy place? The last glimmer of a candle was seen going out in the far reaches of Diagon Alley, probably at Gringott's. It was eerily dark now, even for midnight. The half moon couldn't even penetrate the darkness. It was almost as if it knew not to disturb this place at this moment. No movements could be discerned from the darkness and shadow. But a sound was heard, the swish of a cloak hem on the flagstone street. Then another swish. Then another.
Three shadowy figures could now been seen through the darkness, one tall and slender, one short and chunky, and the other of average height and skinny. They stood outside a shop, peering in through its display window. What it is they were trying to see in this light wasn't evident, but something pleased one of them. The taller figure lets out a quiet but bone- chilling laugh as he walked silently, almost gliding along, to the door at the front of the shop. The others follow suit. "What pleases you so, my master?" The skinny one said. The voice was that of a woman, and it had a slightly unhinged and insane tone to it. "Not even Harry Potter can defeat me this time. Not with this new plan," whispered the tall figure. Though he spoke only in a whisper his voice was cold and high. "I only wish I knew what was in that prophecy! It would seal the deal for sure. I would know his weakness and then..." his voice trailed off. You could almost feel the paper-thin lips curling into a maniacal grin. "I must say, my Lord," sniveled the short, squat man, "this may be your best plot ever." "May be?" drawled the tall, cloaked figure, "Oh, it is, Wormtail, it is. Shall we begin?" "Oh, please, master! I can't wait to get that insolent brat back for smashing the prophecy! Killing his godfather wasn't enough, I need to see him die as well." "Then let us set my plan in motion shall we? Lumos!" A small light then appeared at the tip of a wand. Lord Voldemort held the wand high, and moved it over some peeling gold letters that spelled
"Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C."
Lord Voldemort walked up to the door and smiled "Alohamora!" he said and a small click echoed through Diagon Alley. One after the other the three perpetrators entered the quiet, dusty front room of the shop. The fat one called Wormtail and the woman flanked out and headed for the back, lighting their wands as to not make a racket by running into something. Lord Voldemort waited. He perched himself atop the solitary spindly chair. He continued to wait, noting the thousands of boxes piled high to the ceiling, wondering which one it is...
Wormtail finally returned ten minutes later, little puffs of dust rising around his feet as he padded along towards Voldemort. "I found nothing, my Lord," he said.
"Wormtail, you disappoint me," said Lord Voldemort, his eyes glowing red. "I have no choice but to punish you."
"Not again!" squeaked Wormtail as he bared himself, preparing for the blow. "Cruc-"But he was stopped short. A man's scream could be heard from somewhere in the upper floor. There was a small scramble in which many grunts and missed curses flew every which way. Finally a woman's voice rang above the small din in one word "Imobulas!"
"Good," said Voldemort, a smile curling once again around his lips. "Accio Ollivander!" A withered old man came flying towards him followed closely by the woman. "Excellent work, Bellatrix. Your are proving much more worth than Wormtail. The fat man's head hung low at this comment.
"I apologize for being a disgrace, my Lord."
"Not now Wortail," drawled Voldemort right before he muttered a counter curse. A old man fell to the floor and began to catch his breath.
"Tom Riddle," he gasped out staring at Voldemort who let out an evil hiss at the sound of the name.
"I am not Tom Riddle, I am the Dark Lord Voldemort and you will aid me." Voldemort hissed, his eyes glowing redder by the moment. "And that brings me to why I am here." He stated calmly, perching upon the spindly chair again. It made him look oddly feminine when he crossed his legs (Sorry, couldn't resist the comment, I just got this picture in my head...). "Do you remember my wand, Mr. Ollivander?"
"I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr Riddle. ("Hiss" by Voldemort) Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew and Phoenix feather."
"Correct. Well, I'm sad to say I need a new one. I'm afraid I've rather, lost my liking for this one," He stated twirling the wand in his fingers.
"And why is that?"
"I can't seem to do what I want to with it anymore," He replied
"What? Kill people?" sneered Mr. Ollivander. He was being quite brave for his dire situation.
"Not people in general, Mr. Ollivander. One in particular."
"Even with a new wand you won't be able to kill Harry Potter, Voldemort."
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK HIS NAME!" screamed Bellatrix "CRUCIO!" Screams of pain filled the room as Mr. Ollivander was sent writhing around in the air, Bellatrix and Voldemort's laughs intermingled to create the eeriest sound, like an ill Phoenix's song mixed with a person who knows nothing about music trying to play a piccolo.
"Had enough yet?" said Voldemort as he made Bellatrix stop, sending Mr. Ollivander crashing to the floor.
"Yes, please stop!" Ollivander stopped to catched his breath yet again and continued. "But I'm afraid, sir, that I can't give you a new wand until that one is destroyed"
"Very well then, Wormtail," He tossed his wand to Wormtail who used his silver hand fashioned by Voldemort himself to crush it into a fine powder. Only the Phoenix feather remained intact. "Incendio" Voldemort sent flames toward the feather. They engulfed it and reduced it to nothing within the matter of a second. "You have no choice but to help me now."
"Oh, but I do Mr. Riddle"
"Damn you old man! Bellatrix!
"Imperio!" Ollivander fell under her spell immediately. "Find my master a wand, now!" With a nod and a blank stare Mr. Ollivander began to pull several boxes, zombie-like, from the numerous shelves. He brought them back to Voldemort.
"Mahogany and dragon heartstrings. Twelve inches. Great for charms." Ollivander said in a monotonous voice. Voldemort gave it a small wave and it was snatched from him quickly with a "NO!" "Here try this one Sequioa and Phoenix feather. nie and one half inches, very rare. Do try, come on! NOPE!"....
ONE AND A HALF HOURS LATER
"Dogwood and unicorn hair. Eight inches. Good for transfiguration...NO! NO! NO!"
"Damn it, old man! We must have tried every wand in the store!"
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Riddle." "LORD VOLDEMORT! SAY IT WITH ME VOL- DE- MORT!"
"Yes, sir" replied Ollivander. "Hmm...and why not? We could try it." The old man walked away muttering to himself while Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Wormtail exchanged sideways glances. Mr. Ollivander made his way to the faded purple cushion in the window and picked up the wand lying there.
"The oldest wand in the shop! The first I ever made myself. Black Maple and Pheonix feather. Fourteen-and-one-quarter inches. Great for powerful magic. Only to be used by great wizards."
"And that would be me," snapped Voldemort and he snatched the wandindignantly from Ollivander's hand. The warmth in his fingertips was unmistakeable. This was the one. He shot several sparks up into the air, then conjured a dark mark all within a second.
"Excellent," said the still brainwashed Ollivander. Bellatrix finally muttered the counter curse and Ollivander blinked several times in succession and glance at the wand in Voldemort's hand. "Oh, no!" He said. "What have I done! You've got the wand! Gracious me what have I done!"
"You've just helped me to defeat the boy who lived, Mr. Ollivander," said Voldemort. He let out a loud, piercing, high, cold laugh. "Oh but that's where you're wrong, Mr. Riddle," Voldemort's grip on his new wand tightened. "You see, I just helped Harry Potter to defeat you! Priori Incantatem won't be able to save you this time! Harry Potter is simply too powerful to be defeated by the likes of you. You've just made yourself very vulnerable be destroying the one defense you had! And soon YOU WILL BE GONE FOREVER" Ollivander looked oddly and utterly embazoned with bravery and arrogance. He would never admit it, but Voldemort actually got a twinge of doubt from Ollivander's last staement.
"SHUT UP OLLIVANDER!"
"THE BOY WHO LIVED SHALL DEFEAT THE DARK LORD ONCE AND FOR ALL"
"So be it then, Ollivander. AVADA KEDAVRA!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry suddenly awoke with searing pain in his scar. Voldemort had just killed someone...he knew it. His clock read 1:43 A.M. He rubbed his eyes and place his glasses on his face. 'I need to write to Sirius about this,' He thought. The rain pattered hard outside his window. 'Hate to be out there tonight,' he thought. He walked across the room to his desk, pulled out a quill and parchment, and began to write.
Dear Snuffles,
Thought I'd let you know my scar hurt again. Scan the Prophet for me tomorrow and tell me if there are and suspicious deaths. I have a bad feeling.
Love,
Harry
Harry had placed the letter in an envelope and put it on Hedwig's leg. "This is for Sirius, okay?" The bird gave him a reproachful look. Then Harry remembered and his stomach hit the floor. "Right," he said. "Sorry, girl."
Hedwig hooted cosolingly as Harry flopped down on his bed. Tap. A tear trickled down his face as he recalled his last memories of Sirius.Tap. 'I'm going to kill that bitch,' He thought. Tap. 'Bellatrix LeStrange will die for what she did. Tap. And what the-' "-Hell is that tapping?" His thought change to words as he looked to his left and saw a very disgruntled, and very wet Ron Weasley hovering outside his bedroom window.