Potion Master's Quarters, Dungeons, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Severus noticed the signs at once when he entered his office.

"Homenum Revelio!" He slashed his wand, watching golden rings expand outward, changing and morphing while bouncing around the room like sonar. The golden lights faded, falling away as golden glitter, but Severus remained unconvinced. He kept his wand facing outward.

A stoppered beaker slid across his desk, a transparent lilac liquid sloshing inside the glass.

"Kiss of the wisp…" The voice seemed to echo from every corner in the confined space.

"Let's cut the theatrics!" Snape whipped his wand, cancelling the reverberation charm.

"Very well."

Snape regarded the figure in his personal quarters.

"I take it you are the 'Chimera'?" He sneered.

"Why did you want the minister dead?"

"What?"

Snape blinked, turning to regard his sleeve, pinned to the wall by a quivering silver potion knife. When he turned back, Harry was in front of him.

"No Potions Master worth their salt would use a Goblin Steel potion knife…" Harry growled softly. "Which is how I know you are not responsible."

"I am ever so relieved." Snape snatched his arm from the wall, tearing his robes free, but kept his wand lowered.

"You don't care that you're being framed? No… You knew…"

"I am not surprised."

"A noble attempt," Harry allowed. "But you can't fool me. Talk. Now."

"You think you frighten me?"

Harry drew himself to his full height, towering over Snape, his black feathered cloak plumed with smoke.

"Please." Snape smirked. "You cannot possibly believe-"

The air left his lungs as he was slammed onto the desk. He snapped his wand forward, grunting in pain as the bones in his hand crunched. Harry ripped the wand from the man's mangled fingers and flung it across the room. He ground the broken bones and fingers against each other as Snape groaned in pain behind clenched teeth.

"I said TALK!"

"If you think for a moment," Snape's black eyes narrowed in defiance. "That anything you do can compare to the Dark Lord's ministrations, you are a fool!"

"I can try."

"You'll do nothing but waste your time!"

"Do not tempt me…" Harry hissed. "You have no idea…NONE! Of the sheer self-restraint I am showing… after what you did to the Potters. Do NOT give me an excuse to slip. Because I will take it!"

"How- how do you know that?" Snape paled considerably.

"Do not mistake me for some base thug." Harry snarled. After a moment's consideration, he healed Snape's hand. "I want answers!"

"The Dark Lord sent me the knife." Snape whispered, sliding to sit against the desk. "He instructed me to corrupt the blade, provided the venom to do so, and ordered me to send it."

"Voldemort?"

"You'd use his name idly?"

"After breaking his teeth, I doubt he'd judge me for taking his name in vain."

"That was you?" Snape's eyes widened. "Do you realise what you've done?"

"I made him bleed." Harry asserted. "His followers will lose faith."

"You are a fool…" Snape moaned. "A blind fool… you attacked him in his home… you humiliated him in front of his followers… He will retaliate-"

"He does not know who I am." Harry said, hiding his discomfort.

"That simply means…" Severus shuddered. "He will scorch the earth until he does."

Harry spun around, ready to rush from the room.

"Wait…"

Harry paused by the door.

"In the letter," Snape hesitated. "The instructions concerning the blade… the Dark Lord seemed… different."

"Different?"

"It was not signed, but I knew who it was from the first sentence. They were the Dark Lord's words, yet, they were not. It was as if another man wrote with the Dark Lord's hand…"

Snape raised his head, but the other man was already gone.

The flames subsided from in front of Harry's eyes as he stepped out into the Manor's Foyer.

"Hello, Mr Potter."

Harry sighed, removing his mask.

"Auror Granger. I'll admit I expected you sooner."

"And why is that?" Hermione steepled her fingers where she sat in the armchair facing the fireplace.

"Well, I was public enemy number one."

"You'll be surprised to know that the Director actively discouraged any Aurors from going after you."

"I didn't realise he was a fan."

"He isn't." She quirked a crooked smile.

"Then, the curfew?"

"It was the simplest compromise between allaying the public's worries and keeping anyone from accidentally crossing your path."

"I'm beginning to think it's not the Director I need to send a meat basket."

"You're welcome."

"By all accounts, including your reputation, you should be foaming at the mouth to toss me in irons."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"So I've seen." Harry sighed.

"Why do you do this, Potter?"

"I can't just sit by while Magical Britain crumbles around me."

"That's not a popular stance to take, for a Lord of a Noble House."

"Would you like some tea? I've a feeling this is going to take some time."

"Sure."

Nipsy popped in, placing a tray with tea and a few potions.

"How does your sense of morality countenance owning slaves?"

"Hm?"

"Are you fighting against Voldemort, because you'd rather be the oppressor than the one being oppressed?"

"I fight against Voldemort because it's right. Because it's decent. Because he would burn the country to the ground, just because watching the flames dance would entertain him."

"You create an impression of being someone good, or if not good, someone trying to do the right thing at least. I would imagine the idea of owning a sentient being wouldn't sit well on your conscience."

"You have no idea." Harry laughed bitterly. "I tried for years to free Nipsy and Kreacher. Sirius eventually took me aside and made me stop."

"Afraid he'd have to do the work himself?"

"They were becoming depressed." Harry sighed. "House elves live for hundreds of years. Longer, much longer, than any witch or wizard. They've been so indoctrinated into thinking they have no worth beyond serving, most can't cope with the idea of being free. The elves for the old Houses especially."

"And that makes it right?"

"No. But I have tried to free any elves who wished it. Eventually, most of the Potter elves did, so only Nipsy is left, though even she receives a salary."

He took a sip of his tea before continuing.

"The younger elves take easier to the idea. Sirius and I even managed to convince Lucius Malfoy to trade elves, since Kreacher hated working for a Light household and couldn't stand the other elves who chose freedom or being paid, and I could tell Dobby was deeply unhappy."

"And where is this Dobby now?"

"I haven't seen him since we left Britain, but last we talked, he got a job working at Hogwarts actually. Board, salary and everything. You might even know him."

"The Hogwarts elves are paid?" Her eyes widened.

"Dumbledore is probably the foremost Elf rights activist in Magical Britain. Maybe even the world." Harry smiled. "Sirius may not like him, but you have to admit the old man's got a heart of gold."

"I never knew…"

"Did you ever ask?" Harry laughed. "Or did you just try forcing clothes on them?"

Hermione paled significantly.

"Oh don't worry if you did." Harry quickly interjected. "They likely just went back to Dumbledore and asked for their jobs back. Tea?"

"Yes please."

"Unless you came to arrest me for keeping an elf, I assume you want to discuss the case."

"The case?" Granger lifted an eyebrow at the choice of words.

"The Minister's poisoning?"

"Oh. Yes." She collected her thoughts. "Though I disapprove of the manner you… interrogated Yaxley, your memories have been invaluable."

"I try to be thorough. And I know I can trust you. That goes both ways."

"Not enough to keep you from altering them to hide your identity."

"You never know who might sneak a peek."

"I suppose that's true. I take it you've gathered new information since then?"

"Since last we spoke I discovered the Minister's potions had been sabotaged by his own Potions Master."

"Silvertree?" Hermione frowned. "He's been loyal for over half a decade. Why turn now?"

"He didn't. He received a sabotaged potion knife as a birthday gift."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"You'd think a potions master would test his tools before using it."

"Unless it came from a colleague."

After a brief pause Hermione motioned for him to continue, accepting the reasoning.

"A professor at Hogwarts. Severus Snape. A Death Eater under Voldemort, though I get the idea he's not a particularly willing one. You might be able to get more out of him than I did."

"Professor Snape… a Death Eater?"

"I take it you know him."

Hermione only nodded.

"He was sent the knife by Voldemort."

"A rather obvious answer to an overly complex riddle." Hermione sighed.

"Indeed. But Snape said something else. He mentioned that Voldemort came off strange in the letter. As if someone else was using his words to write."

"You're telling me someone is framing Voldemort to take the fall for the Minister's death?"

"What a concept." Harry grinned.

"So essentially, we're at a dead end." Hermione sighed. "Unless you know about any other Dark Lords running about?"

"Darth Vader?"

Hermione choked on her tea.


Tom Riddle was beyond on edge. Outwardly, he smiled, laughed and rubbed elbows with any- and everyone who came to him.

Muggleborns, Purebloods, Noble Lords, the poorest of the poor, high born or low.

October 31st, election day.

The people of Magical Britain crowded the Atrium, even though it had been magically expanded to nearly six times its normal size.

Nearly a week had passed since Severus had barrelled, white faced, into Albus' office.

Every nerve racking day since he and Severus had grown increasingly agitated while Albus had merely penned a letter to the new Chief Auror and smiled serenely.

"Mr Potter, Lady Greengrass." He greeted cordially.

"Why does she get to be Lady, but I'm Mister?" Harry smiled warmly, greeting his friend.

"Oh I have self preservation enough to know who the dangerous one is." Tom winked.

"Glad to see our society is in sensible hands." Daphne smirked.

"You say that as if it's a sure thing."

"Montague's brother outed as a Death Eater, Thicknesse's pedantic stance on every matter he's asked about, I'd reckon it's a safe bet."

"I wish I shared your confidence, my dear." Tom nearly preened. "I shall make time to speak more with you later. I am afraid it looks as if Severus needs me."

"Does he look nervous to you?" Harry wondered.

"It's election day." Daphne rolled her eyes long sufferingly. "Are we still on for later?"

"If nothing comes up."

"Careful, Lord Potter." Daphne purred dangerously. "A girl could get the idea you have other priorities."

"A secret private life? I wouldn't think of it."

"I'm sure."

"There you are!" Astoria wore her signature smile. "I've been looking all over! How's the skin?"

"Aches and pulls." Harry smiled fondly.

"Oh that's just your age showing."

"Oi!"

"You really are rubbing off on him." Astoria mock frowned at her sister. "He knew how to take a joke, before you got your claws in him."

"What can I say?" Daphne patted Harry's head fondly. "I do good work."

"Well, I need you." Astoria grabbed her sister's arm. "Sorry, Harry."

"Have her back before dark."

"Do try to behave while I'm gone." Daphne said over her shoulder.

"Never." Harry grinned.

His eyes shifted back to Riddle, in what looked like a rather tense conversation with Diggory. As he made his way, slowly, across the packed Atrium, Harry began formulating reasons and responses for why he felt the need to join the conversation.

"I wouldn't worry about what to say." The man had slick, white hair, and wore a knowing smile. "He's quite the fan."

"That so?" Harry stopped, facing the man with a bright smile. "Harry Potter, but I assume you knew that?"

"Indeed. Maximilian Argent."

"Ah." Harry tipped his head. "I should have known. The hair."

"As recognisable as a Weasley's, do you think?"

"Not that bad." Harry laughed. "Argent? You wouldn't happen to be related to the Argent Lakes line?"

"I should think so." He scoffed. "It was my bloody manor that hosted the gala."

"I'm sorry."

"Think nothing of it. How do you know Riddle?"

"He's a friend of my godfather's."

"I suppose I shall never stop being surprised by the connections that man has, especially for a half-blood. No offence of course, you were nobly raised."

"None taken. How do you know Tom?"

"Oh, we frequent many of the same social events…" Argent trailed off. "He was very keen to meet you."

"Well, I suppose everything worked out with the gala, in a way."

"Worked out indeed!" Argent laughed haughtily. "Why, Tom went to grand lengths to have the gala delayed to correspond with the day your Portkey arrived."

"An awful lot of effort…"

"As I said earlier, quite the fan." Argent preened at the attention, squeezing out every morsel of gossip. "Would you believe he came to me a week beforehand, and asked me to twist the organiser's arm? After that, why, he obsessed over every frill and ornament, decorated the whole event himself really, down to the glasses. He wanted it to be perfect."

Hermione stalked like a hunting cat. Her magical eye scanned every guest, checking each as thoroughly as she could. Dumbledore had shown her an unprecedented level of trust, revealing Snape's intel about Voldemort. For the umpteenth time since receiving the notice, she cursed Harry's recklessness.

The Floo entrances were still flaring up sporadically, letting latecomers in. Despite how packed the Atrium was, several prominent figures from Magical Britain's elite were still missing.

Fawley Sr, the Goyles, Rosiers, Urquarts and most notably of all, the Montagues.

It was downright unheard of for a ministerial nominee to fail to show up to his own election.

Several fireplaces flared at once, in quick succession until an army of Death Eaters stood across the Entryway.

Screaming and clamour cut out, as if magically silenced.

"Dear People…" Lord Voldemort's pale white skin peeled from his body, leaving large patches of bloody flesh exposed. "Is it too late to throw my proverbial hat into this election?"

Wands trained on each other, Death Eaters and Aurors faced each other from across the distance. Voldemort giggled gleefully, his bright, scarlet eyes nearly glowing. Red spots of blood bloomed from his white silk robes showing where his skin broke underneath.

"It seems… I have been too lax, of late. I have slipped. I allowed my heel to step from your throats… As a trusting parent, I have allowed you to live in safety. To continue your pitiful lives in peace. But you have squandered this gift… and now… at this silly little farce you have arranged…"

His robes darkened at the hem as they dragged through the bloody trail he made as he walked.

"Now I will remind you who Magical Britain's true ruler is…"

With a flourish, he drew his long, pale wand, streaked with bloody fingerprints.

"Take them down!" Hermione cried.

The packed Atrium exploded in chaos.

Several Death Eaters threw their black robes off, revealing serrated bone claws at the end of gangly limbs. Eyeless faces grinned in delight, leaping into the screaming crowd.

A spike of stone from the floor slashed a bright, red line through Voldemort's pale robes, causing him to hiss in disgust. He spun, lashing a whip of green fire forwards, sending three Aurors to the ground, screaming. A fourth, a young, dark haired man countered with a transfigured shield, sending ragged shards his way.

He split the oncoming wave of shrapnel casually, taken off guard by another spike from the ground. He spun around, sending a stream of curses forward, watching as the Auror curled out of the way, replying with a volley of spells of his own.

Cedric rent another spike of stone up from the ground, but to his dismay, Voldemort dodged easily, sending the stone exploding back towards him. He shielded, feeling impact from the shards of rock, only for a whip of green fire to score deeply across his back.

"You're becoming predictable." Voldemort tsked.

"I'll kill you for what you did to me!" Cedric saw red, rending stone from the walls and tiles, metal from lamps, and shards of glass and debris from the floor and hurtling it in weaving torrents forwards from all angles.

Voldemort danced backward, then produced a shield as he crouched, deflecting the onslaught around himself, then whipped his wand forward, sending long spikes of stone stabbing towards the Auror.

Cedric clenched his teeth as a spike ripped through his chest.

"And what was it I did to inspire such hatred?" Voldemort smiled in delight, blood running over his lidless eyes.

"You murdered my father!"

"Oh. How mundane." With a flick of his wrist he sent a green Killing Curse to the man's chest. Stone exploded, and when the smoke cleared, Voldemort saw a face he recognised very well.

"Go, Cedric!" Tom cried, slashing his friend free.

"I won't leave you!"

Before he could protest further, Tom banished Cedric back, into the Auror line.

"I will admit…" Voldemort lashed his wand across his chest, bowing mockingly. "I have been looking forward to this…"

"So have I." Tom held his wand over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. "On three?"

"After you."

Harry batted the blasting curse away, banishing a Death Eater into his comrades and spinning through the air to snap his leg across another's head, sending him tumbling to the floor. Rolling, Harry summoned tables, broken stone and furniture, blocking curse fire as he cordoned off the destructive duels between the Aurors and Death Eaters from the innocent bystanders.

With the majority of the battle at the floo, and the anti-Portkey and -apparition wards in place, they had nowhere to go. A cutting curse sent him sliding to a stop with a grunt of pain. He tried to lift his wand, but felt his hand held to the floor by a booted foot. Two Death Eaters held him to the ground as a third approached.

The Death Eater's emotionless mask seemed to snarl as a wand was levelled at Harry's chest.

The Dark Wizard cried out as a cutting curse buckled his knee.

"Get away from my godson, you bastards!" Sirius whipped his cane forward, twin slashes of blue light sending two off their feet, while Harry slammed his fist into the last one's injured knee, then a kick to the chin with his uninjured leg took him down.

He quickly healed his leg as Sirius covered him, leaping to his feet and shielding a Killing Curse by summoning a yelping Death Eater to intercept it.

Sirius wielded his cane like a trained fencer would his sword, cutting down any opponent who challenged him.

"You've been practising!" Harry laughed, shielding and countering anyone attacking Sirius from behind.

"You should have seen me with my clever hand!" Sirius smiled widely, dispatching another Death Eater with a well placed stunner.

"No thank you!" Harry snatched a pulsing, yellow curse, with the tip of his wand sent it harmlessly into the ceiling. "I know what you did with that hand!"

Albus dragged his wand over the tiles, sending a stone stag forward, pinning another of the unknown creatures wailing to the ground. He had found them much too difficult to dispatch without harming them.

"Stay behind me, Severus!" He cautioned, pushing forward harder as bone claws slowly punched through his shield.

"Sectumsempra!" Severus put all his power into the spell, sending the creature to the ground, clawing at its chest. The curse's damage kept spreading, negating the creature's healing abilities. He raised his wand again. "Sectumsempra!"

Draco remained close to the Potions Master's side. He was no professional duelist, but Snape had taught him more than enough to defend himself.

"Traitor!" He recognised Marcus Flint's voice.

Three Death Eaters advanced on Hermione. She stood alone, a single, red robed figure between the horde of Dark Wizards and the public. Curse after curse hurtled towards her, though she paid them little mind. Easily, almost effortlessly, she countered and shielded. No spell passed her.

Two more joined the fray, attacking from odd angles, trying to work a spell or curse around her defences.

As if in slow motion, she watched a sickly green killing curse impact her shield. It dissipated, as weakly if it were a stunner from a child.

With an even, focussed series of slashes from her wand, Hermione stunned all five Death Eaters, watching them crumple. She waved and flicked her wand, as a painter would a brush, sending out stunners that shattered shields, disarming charms that sent opponents flying.

She was an artist of judgement, all powerful and invincible, composing the music of justice with the wand her instrument.

As she watched the piles of black robed figures grow, she felt a solemn understanding of Voldemort.

The sheer power she held, the intoxication… control over life and death…

She whipped her wand forward, stunning another Death Eater, before spinning and sending another flying.

She understood in that moment, with complete clarity, what whole and utter corruption power on that level could have, what intense dominance she could exert on the world and those around her.

And she swore to herself that she would never succumb to it.

No one person had the right to exert the force of their will over others, and with the immense power she now held, she gained a terrible weight of obligation.

She held the power to change the world exactly to her designs, which was why she knew she had to restrain herself from doing so.

Draco blocked and shielded silently, focussed on his duel.

"Stay close!" Dumbledore bellowed, lashing out with a whip of flame, cleaving three more of the creatures into cauterised pieces. The torso of one clawed the stone tiles, dragging itself closer with its remaining arm before Severus stepped forward and froze it in place with a freezing curse.

Draco dodged a withering curse, returning fire with a bright disarming charm that sent Flint flying.

Dumbledore cried out as the stray curse impacted his back, sending him staggering to his knees. He strained, his aged legs no longer fit to support him as he felt his body begin to numb. His bright, purple robes, decorated with golden, glittering stars, rotted and crumbled as the curse ate the fabric. With a gasping cry, Dumbledore stumbled again, collapsing on the tiled floor.

"Albus!" Snape shouted, rushing to his side, urgently, frantically, murmuring healing charms in an attempt to counteract the damage.

He cursed, increasing his efforts as the blackening skin spread, unheeding.

'N-no Severus…" The aged headmaster grit his teeth against the pain. "You know as well as I that there is nothing you can do. Promise me, Severus… Promise me you will look after them… the children… the school…"

"Minerva-"

"Minerva will need you." Albus' voice began growing faint. "Guide the ones that need a firm hand, encourage the ones with a thirst to learn, but most of all, Severus, protect the children like yourself… the ones who cannot… protect themselves…"

"I swear." Severus assured, voice thick with grief, holding Dumbledore's cooling hand.

The headmaster's spectacles lay on the floor, spellfire reflected in the cracked lenses.

Tom kept his eyes on his opponent as he whipped a string of curses to the side where they blasted holes in the walls.

He slashed with a whip of fire, watching as Voldemort grabbed the end, a manic light in his eyes as he wrapped it around his arm and dispelled it.

"I cannot believe he allowed you to learn that one!" He laughed gleefully. "You must teach me! My version is much too slow!"

"You're not the type to learn!" Tom diverted a Killing Curse by summoning Voldemort's robes, sending the curse flying backwards harmlessly.

The floor around them was lowered a full foot into ground, pocked from errant spells, while the walls domed outwards, edged by fractured bricks.

Voldemort held his wand to his mouth, sending out a stream of billowing Fiendfyre, rearing up into a flaming serpent.

Tom ripped coils of stone from the walls and floor, coating and holding the Fiendyre as it smothered, absorbed by the force of his will.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort bellowed.

Tom reacted a moment slower than he should have, still half focussed on containing the Fiendfyre.

Lifting his wand just in time, he sent out a Killing Curse of his own.

The spells collided, sending streams of golden light outward, twisting into strands of lightning as they formed a dome around the duelling wizards. A single arc of pulsing light connected their wands.

Tom was nearly pulled from his feet from the strain of holding back his alter's will.

"You pathetic shade!" Voldemort screamed. "I should have never let you live!"

"You won't live to regret it!" Tom poured the sheer force of his will, all his focus and energy into the battle.

"Abandon this futile gesture!" Voldemort snarled, struggling against Tom's determination. "You are a sliver of my soul, you wretched creature! You above all others must realise how futile this is! Even if you kill me, I will simply rise again!"

"You've always lacked vision!"

The golden beads strung on the spell's glowing cord inched towards Voldemort's wand.

"Lacked vision?! I made you! You would not exist but for my vision!"

"Exactly, you blubbering fool!" Tom laughed hysterically, falling to one knee from the exertion. "This mad lust for power, for what? To what end? To rule eternal? Can you imagine nothing but death and destruction?"

The beads inexorably moved towards the Yew wand.

"You're weak!" Voldemort bellowed, growing delirious. "Pathetic! Branded by a common muggle name! Do you not even possess the strength to rise and claim your birthright?!"

Tom cackled in mad catharsis as the beads froze, right before the tip of Voldemort's wand. He could no longer deny what he knew he had become.

How far he had risen above what created him.

"I am strength where you are weakness!" Tom reached the limit of his willpower, sweat dripping from his hair. He strained, delving into depths of conviction he never would have thought himself capable of before. "I am your failures manifest!"

Golden light flashed as Voldemort went flying backwards, crashing into the ruined wall. Tom staggered to his feet, keeping his wand trained on the other wizard.

He hardly noticed the lack of any sound in the Atrium. Every wizard or witch still standing had their eyes pinned to the spectacle.

Voldemort's left arm stuck out at a strange angle, but he crawled forward, relentless, fingertips brushing the handle of his wand before a cutting curse lopped his hand off at the wrist.

"I am everything you failed to be." Tom raised his wand.

"This means nothing." Voldemort spat.

"Look around, Lord Voldemort." Tom jeered. "Your body is ruined. Your followers decimated."

Dust fell in the Atrium, Aurors stood over still, black robed bodies.

"You have nothing." Tom smiled.

"Death cannot hold me, you wretched facsimile…"

Tom leaned forward, mad light shining in his eyes.

"I am counting on it." He cooed.

With a bright blue curse to the chest, Lord Voldemort's face twisted in a silent scream, then he slumped.

A black mist ripped from Voldemort's corpse as his spirit fled screaming from the Atrium.