{Notes:} Thanks for all of your reviews. You guys are what keeps me going after so… l o n g…
Warnings: A small bit of gore. Just a glimpse. Also, horrible grammar.
Chapter Thirty
It was an unnerving day in the Ministry.
The wandering Auror gradually made his way down the corridor, squinting in the poorly lit structure. He was on break and ordered to rest up in the Auror lounge. Usually, the halls were lively and full of men and women suited up. Today, though, there was a heavily secured prisoner that needed bodies and extra aid was ordered to stand guard near the Ministry entrance. Apparently Shacklebolt, Moody, and Scrimgeour believed there would be a threat to security tonight… or… this morning.
Aaron was often praised for his stealth, but at the moment, his footsteps sounded deafening to his ears. Up ahead, he could see a shape lying motionless on the ground. Cautiously, Aaron took his wand out and held it at the ready. Shuffling his feet in order to advance at the ready, he approached the dark and unidentified object. With his back against the secure wall, Aaron swept his gaze coldly across the shadowed and vacant area.
There was nothing in sight. Perspiration beaded his forehead as he kept his wand raised and ears open. Eyes lowering, he squinted at the object, trying in vain to identify it. Was it a person?
"Hey," Aaron called softly. "You awake?"
Near him, something whisked by his person. He pivoted sharply, his eyes searching the corridor. Nothing. Eyes dancing quickly from one corner to the other, Aaron then took a step toward the body. As soon as he neared, his boots squelched in something wet and soft.
"Damn it," he growled. Shifting, he tried to step away from what appeared to be spilt food. Perhaps someone had been drinking too much in celebration of the capture of Izar Black. It was common for off-duty Aurors to celebrate early, despite their superior's disproval.
"Lumos," he intoned reluctantly. He felt eyes on him. The last thing he needed was light to draw his enemy closer.
Aaron scoffed and shook his head. His comrades constantly teased him about his paranoia, there probably was no enemy but he couldn't help believing it. His parents had been slain by Death Eaters. His sister and his brother-in-law were killed by Death Eaters. He had even been attacked by Death Eaters unexpectedly. It should be normal for someone like him to experience paranoia.
Aaron slanted the tip of his wand downward, squinting in incomprehensiveness. "What the…fuck?" His wand hand trembled as he stared at the overwhelming amount of red and purple. It took him a long moment to realize that it was a torn body he was seeing. Pieces of intestines were in places they shouldn't have been while bone and muscle were strewn across the ground.
"Fuck!" Aaron screamed, stumbling backward when he realized he wasn't stepping on spilt food but a…a… bloody organ? His eyes turned toward what he assumed was the beginning of the body, only to realize the head and face were left untouched.
Wide blue eyes stared back at him. It was the face of James Schrill… the Ministry enforcer who was in charge of interrogations. His most recent interrogation? Izar Black.
Aaron pushed his back against the wall before turning sideways and emptying out his stomach. The vomit landed in a puddle of blood with an audible splash.
"It can be a shock, I suppose."
The Auror yelped at the whispered words to his immediate left. He turned abruptly, his wand pointing straight at… nothing. Again. Nothing… he was going insane. He really was. The voice had been nothing but a whisper, he could have easily imagined it due to his shock… perhaps his sanity had left him the day he found his pregnant sister slain.
"But I thought Aurors, like you, had stomachs of steel."
Aaron turned to his right where he heard the voice, breathing heavily and his hand quivering frantically. There was nothing there but a vacant corridor. He hadn't trained long enough to deal with this… he…he… he was too young! Too inexperienced!
"Stop playing around!" he screamed, spit flying past his trembling lips. "You fucking insane bastard! You're crazy!"
"Perhaps you're the crazy one," the voice rasped smugly. "Though, while I suppose I am a bastard, there is only one person who may call me that and live." The voice paused to consider. "And he does call me that often."
The voice was coming from every which direction. Aaron's legs jerked toward the staircase, his instincts telling him to run but his logic telling him running would only make it worse. Keeping one hand raised, Aaron dug inside his pocket, pressing his emergency badge. It was a small object that was handed out to every Auror in case of emergencies. It could track members of the team and it could also send a beacon to his team, informing them he was in need of assistance.
"I was hoping you would do that," the voice mused. "I'm afraid your friend Mr. Schrill was not fast enough to alert for help."
Hoping to outsmart his enemy, Aaron cast a binding spell over his shoulder where the voice came from. He did it in such a way that he hadn't moved his own position, a maneuver that wouldn't alert his enemy to an attack. A heavy thumping sounded behind him and Aaron's eyes widened, unable to believe it had been that easy. He turned, another curse resting on his lips, until he realized there was no one there.
"I've been behind you this entire time, Aaron."
Aaron whirled around, wondering when he had stepped away from the wall. Raising his lit wand, he stumbled backward with a sharp intake of breath as red-slit eyes and fangs were highlighted from the lumos.
He only had time to scream before his attacker lunged.
{Death of Today}
"Sleeping like a damned baby," someone groused from outside Izar's cell door. "He must be used to chains." The group snickered darkly and Izar grinned softly with his head bowed. "What are the chances he's into that kind of stuff?"
Really, they were getting so good until that last comment. Izar found sexual fetishes rather pointless. At least, he found them pointless. Others obviously got off from them. Though… if he thought about it, Voldemort seemed like the type of man who would get into that kind of practice. Then again, maybe not. Voldemort was more into dominance and the mind games before the actual sex, just as Izar. He mused silently for a moment before widening his eyes. With a startling awareness, he realized that was a damned fetish. Disgusting. He got off by physiological games and physical domination… he was no better than the humans standing outside his cell.
Why was he thinking of this again? Damned humans and their impenetrable minds. They were rubbing off Izar the more he stayed within their proximity. He had a task to focus on. Listening to their endless attempts at humor was getting him nowhere.
Bit by bit, Izar was opening up his creature-core. He could feel his energy begin to rise and the deep wounds begin to close. The throbbing across his body slowly became nonexistent while his incoherent mind soon sharpened. His senses were also improving. That damned light shining on him was an even larger nuisance then it had been before.
Luckily, the blood smeared across his body made it appear as if he were still wounded. The onlookers wouldn't think anything of his condition. Izar had silently tracked their whereabouts for the past few minutes. They had migrated in a group to the side of his cell—four of them. Outside the room, Izar could hear two silent bodies—most likely veterans. He wasn't very familiar with this level of the Ministry, however, he was aware of the fact that it was almost like a maze. It would take him a great amount of stealth to exit the Ministry undetected. Aurors were patrolling the corridors around the cells and most likely the exits.
Izar tugged on his chains, testing the anchor holding them up. Fortunately, it was bolted and not magically reinforced. Just as he was about to put his plan into motion, a fifth body entered the holding room.
"Did you hear?" The voice was oddly urgent and excited. "Rookie team was found in the corridors. Dead. All of them, slaughtered. The perpetrator hasn't been identified or captured."
The Black heir froze and immediately narrowed his eyes. Lank wavy hair fell in his eyes as he glowered at the wall across from him.
"The Minister is calling for reinforcements."
There were bemused murmurs amongst the Aurors. Most of them didn't share their partner's excitement on the subject. "Where does the Minister want us?" one of the regular men standing guard asked.
"Right where you are," the newcomer informed. "Minister Scrimgeour wants more guards around Black. He reckons it's a diversion to draw us away from the prisoner. Bloody messed up, if you ask me. I heard the whole team was brutalized pretty badly."
"All of them dead? There must be more than just one culprit."
"I'd wager there is a group of them hiding inside the Ministry. Scrimgeour is going to lockdown the Ministry shortly. No one will be allowed to leave or exit the building until Moody and Shacklebolt declare everything under control."
Izar seethed. Was Voldemort that much of a bastard or was Scrimgeour just getting smarter? It was likely a combination of both. Voldemort wanted to get his hands on Izar's tormentor while Scrimgeour was getting familiar with predicting his enemies' moves. Voldemort could have also done this to make Izar's escape more complicated. Either way, Izar had to act. Now.
He tugged the chains from the ceiling and he and his shackles fell to the ground. Izar made a show of rolling on the ground, moaning in pain. His foot intentionally jerked and knocked over the searing light pointing in his direction.
"My arm," Izar hissed in desperation. "The Mark!" He rolled on his knees, awkwardly clutching his left forearm with his cuffed hands. Clenching his teeth, he looked up at the men peering in his cell with surprise and bemusement written across their faces. "Please, he's killing me. The Dark Lord is killing me!"
One of the Aurors took a step back. "Scrimgeour mentioned something like this might happen. Let me go alert him."
Just as the man made a move toward the door, Izar moaned. He couldn't alert the two men standing outside the door to what was going on. If they somehow knew there was a scuffle, they would alert the other Aurors nearby and, in turn, they would alert even more guards. "There's no time," Izar muttered, curling into himself. "You need to amputate my arm. Please." As if it was that easy, as if Voldemort were that stupid. The Mark was deeply bound with the body. Cutting off the arm would make no difference—but they didn't need to know that.
He caught at least one man who looked suspiciously down at Izar. The other four were just plain idiots as they began to unlock his cell door.
Izar wheezed, curling on himself and bowing his forehead to the ground. He prepared his body in the right position, counting down to the last second as they moved into his premeditated stances. One would crouch down in front of him, one would cover the one who crouched, and the others would stand in position at the open door.
"Just let the bastard die," one of them whispered, halting the process of opening the cell. "After what he's done, he deserves to die. It'll teach him just how merciful his Master really is."
"It'd be fine by me. But Scrimgeour needs this one alive for now."
Making a show of trembling, Izar gave a toothy smile that was easily veiled from their eyes. Through fallen bangs, he watched as one Auror approached him with his wand raised, ready to cut off his left arm. As soon as the first syllable was out of the Auror's mouth, Izar sprang.
His fingers slapped the underside of the Auror's wrist, causing the wand to jump in the air. The unaware wizard didn't stand a chance as Izar grabbed the wand craftily, casting a Silenco around the room. Throwing the wand further inside the cell, Izar advanced toward the shell-shocked Auror and pivoted behind the man. Bringing his arms around the Auror's neck, he wrapped the chains around the throat in a crisscross pattern. With deliberate steps, he tugged hard, snapping the man's neck instantly. Using the prone corpse as a shield for the curses sent his way, Izar turned and pushed the dead Auror into the group of wizards.
They were quick, Izar would give them that. However, he was quicker, with or without his creature reflexes.
Izar twisted an Auror's wand arm until it snapped in a clean break, another's face was crushed by his foot, and another was lying unconscious from a blow to his head before Izar could face his last opponent. The burly Auror was standing a good distance away—too far for Izar to reach. While his creature was back in full power, he still wanted to avoid other's knowing of his immortality. His magic-sensitivity, on the other hand, would likely be discovered after today's escapade.
Izar reached out his arm just as the curse left the Auror's wand. Side-stepping the green bolt of magic, Izar made a pinching motion with his index and thumb finger. He promised himself he would never cut off someone's magical core like Cygnus had done. It was cowardly and it was spineless. However, at the moment, he did not have his wand to properly defend himself and he was under a time limit.
As soon as he clutched the man's magical core, the Auror dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and his mouth unhinged. Nothing escaped past his trembling lips, but Izar could all but taste the silent scream. Keeping his attention on the man at his feet, Izar threw back his left elbow, connecting it with the Auror's nose as his enemy came up behind him. He offered a crooked grin as he heard the body collapse to the ground. So what if he added a bit of his creature strength behind his hits?
"Oh my," Izar breathed, dropping his arm and looking down at himself. "I can't parade around in my underwear, now can I? No matter how appealing it may be to others…"
His bare feet slapped the ground as he looked at the five bodies strewn across the ground; one was dead, one was still unconscious, one was too terrified of losing his magic that he might as well be useless, the other was holding his bloody nose, and the other was clutching at his arm— appearing bemused and frightened. They made a lot.
The sound of a wand being dragged across the ground drew Izar's attention. With reflexes that would be too quick for a human to track, Izar turned, stomping his heel down and snapping the wand in half.
He tsked, raising his brows at the consistent man. It was the oldest Auror in the bunch and Izar had to give credit to where it was due. Even with a broken and bloody nose, the Auror had enough sense to realize he could still keep going. Sadly, with his broken wand in front of him, the man seemed to deflate.
"You." Izar pointed to the youngest and smallest man with the broken arm. "Strip."
The brunette offered Izar a look of disdain and refused to move.
"I don't have time for this," Izar growled. He kept his attention on all the wizards but took an advancing step toward the youngest Auror. Raising his hand, he ignored the warning cry from the Auror to his left as he pinched the man's magical core. The young man's eyes widened and he screamed in loss. "I can take your magic away or I can give it back with your cooperation. You take your pick."
"G-give it back!" the man screamed. "Please! Give it back!"
Izar sighed, dropping his hand and releasing his hold over the tantalizing magic. The Auror gasped for breath, his limbs shaking with visible tremors.
"Your clothes… strip."
{Death of Today}
Rufus made his way down to the deepest cell block, nodding sharply to the two Aurors standing guard outside Black's holding cell. Behind Rufus, there were three Aurors standing at attention, alert for an attack at the rear.
"Report," Rufus barked out.
"Nothing suspicious, sir." Both guards straightened their positions, their arm crossed over their chest in the typical position two wizards would take when guarding an entrance. Both of their wands were pointed inward, ready to cast if someone were to enter or exit forcibly.
The Minister grunted, his mind elsewhere. He had just finished meeting with Shacklebolt and Moody. Both veterans were ordered to stay close to the exits of the Ministry. While Rufus intentionally had Black overhear an Auror talking about extra security around his cell, it had just been a ruse. In fact, Rufus had pulled security away from Black in order for the Aurors to roam the corridors closest to the stairwells and the lifts. After the gruesome sight in the corridors, Rufus wasn't taking any damn chances. Ten men— slaughtered like Muggle pigs— were as much as Rufus could afford to lose.
The fact that James Schrill, the Auror enforcer, was among the dead and most brutally mutilated warned Rufus that Riddle was behind this. A few weeks ago, Rufus was finally told that Riddle was Lord Voldemort and it took days to come to terms with it. There was no proof, nothing but Albus Dumbledore's word. Dumbledore's word meant very little to Rufus. Light Lords, Dark Lords, they were all the same. The Ministry is what had the populations' wellbeing in mind.
It would be easier to ban Tom Riddle from the Ministry all together, but Rufus was confined by his lack of evidence. At times, even Rufus found it hard to believe that the sharp politician was a sociopathic killer.
The Minister swept in the holding cell, stopping short when he spied an empty room. He limped quickly inside, his eyes sharp as he peered inside the cell.
"My…gods…" Rufus hissed in disbelief.
Four of his Aurors were strung up in a similar fashion that Izar Black had recently been in. One wizard was stripped down to his boxers while the others only had naked feet. Blood dripped from their soles and began to puddle around their mutilated toes. All of them were unconscious… or dead, unaware of the bright spotlight highlighting their immobile forms.
The men at Rufus' back quickly unlocked the cell door and checked their comrades' health. The Minister could only stand there stiffly, knowing the Dark Lord had found a way inside. Despite the Aurors, despite the security charms he placed around the cell—the Dark Lord found a way to slither past Rufus' closed fist. An alarm was meant to go off if any Dark Arts were practiced inside this room. Surely the Dark Lord hadn't used Light or neutral magic to do this…
"All of them are alive, sir, save for Collins."
Rufus' mind frame suddenly flipped its focus on Black. It had to be Izar who had escaped himself. If it had been the Dark Lord, the man wouldn't have left behind any survivors.
Limping outside the door, Rufus grabbed the nearest Auror. "Who recently left Black's holding cell?"
The man appeared startled as he looked at Rufus' hand on his shoulder. "Marlens, Minister. Marlens… and Barnes was with him."
Marlens had been the Auror Rufus specifically sent to Black's cell to make the boy believe security was tighter around his holding area. Barnes, on the other hand, was currently strung up in Black's holding cell while Marlens was oddly absent. "Did you see Barnes' face?" Rufus demanded, his battle-scarred fingers tightening. "Or was he wearing a hood?"
The Auror grimaced. "It was the official uniform, sir…" he trailed off lamely. "Marlens had his face revealed and he escorted an ill Barnes to the infirmary. Marlens looked pretty concerned for Barnes' well-being. He said it was urgent— a stomach flu." The man held up his hands in surrender at Rufus' sharp look. "It was only minutes ago, sir!"
Rufus allowed his hand to slip, barely controlling the roar residing in his chest. "I asked you for a report, soldier. You said that there was nothing suspicious. Would you like to reconsider your words?" Without waiting for a response, Rufus turned his heel and limped down the corridor, his mind in a haze.
How had Black escaped? Running a hand threw his slick and oiled hair, Rufus grunted, quickly making his way from the depths of the holding cells. Analyzing and contemplating Black's ability to escape would get him nowhere. He could marvel at the boy's genius later, preferably when Rufus had the boy under chains once again. What mattered now was that Black was parading around the Ministry as an Auror.
Intelligent as Black may be, Rufus had control of the whole Ministry and he knew how the young prodigy's mind worked.
Who had the upper hand?
{Death of Today}
"Thirty minutes, child… you're running out of time." The hissing trailed off into a fit of chuckles, chasing after Izar's heels.
"I can make it in twenty," Izar boasted, a sly grin stretching his lips. He secured his hood, covering a good portion of his face. Next to him, the Auror he took at wand point glanced at him oddly. Izar couldn't care a less. The man was his ticket out of the Ministry. Let the Auror think him insane, it wouldn't be too far from the truth.
He was more than aware of Voldemort following him—observing him. How the man did that, Izar did not know. It was not a simple Disillusionment Charm. He knew there was a Dark Arts spell that allowed the caster to melt within the shadows and travel easily through darkened atmospheres without being seen. It was advanced magic and something Izar hadn't had time to really look at.
When the hell did he have time? Ever since the war began, Izar found it difficult to do the things he wanted. It was all about creating Horcruxes, going to raids, arguing with Voldemort…
When the war was over, Izar wanted a few months, if not a few years off before he and Voldemort began their next phase of immortality. There were things he wanted to learn, to study, and to invent before he had to continue. His spell-making was lacking ever since he left Hogwarts and he desperately needed more curses to abolish his enemies. Spells that were taught in school were so boring.
He supposed, now that he was considered an 'adult', he didn't have as much free time as he once had. It was a bit disappointing.
"You won't get away with this," the Auror murmured with light glee.
Izar blinked at the tone, turning his head sideways to study the tall and burly man. It was the same Auror that Izar had used his magic-sensitivity on. It seemed as if the Auror had recovered from the fright of his magic draining for him. "What is your name?" Izar breathed in simple curiosity.
"As if I would tell you. You're a worthless piece of scum."
"Oh," Izar sniffed. "That was a bit insensitive and uncalled for." He reached forward suddenly, wrapping his hand around the back of the Auror's neck. His fingers imbedded into the skin, putting pressure on the sensitive points in the man's throat. "Especially when I'm the one holding your life literally in my hand."
The dark-haired Auror jeered loudly. "As if a skinny punk like you could do anything. I know that you need me alive to get your arse out of here. Keep talking big. I knew men like you. You're insecure of yourself, so you overcompensate by trying to control others."
Izar stopped short in his escape of level two. One more level and he would be on the top floor of the Ministry. He kept his hand encircled around the man's neck, putting even more pressure on the appendage. "One, you talk far too much." Izar took a step closer, staring closely at the man's dark grey eyes. "Two? Do not challenge me, because I am always forced to accept it. I do not… need you."
Just as the Auror made a movement to swipe at Izar, the Black heir tightened his hand around the man's throat and squeezed until it snapped. Izar stepped over the prone figure, stalking down the corridor. Just as he was summoning another plan to get out of the Ministry, a tiny beep sounded from behind him. Izar turned sharply, eyeing the dark corridor but knowing there was no one there besides a silent Dark Lord and a corpse.
His eyes sharpened when he zeroed in on a blinking red light in the Auror's pocket. Izar lunged, sticking his hand in the man's pocket and pulling out a silver hexagon, the size no bigger than the pad of his thumb. Squinting, he could make out the Ministry logo and the small button. At the moment, it was glowing red before dimming back into the silver of a regular coin.
"Bloody hell," he hissed. How could he be so stupid? Of course the Aurors would have a device that would track and act as an emergency contact. Izar dug in his own pocket, having to pry apart the metal object from the fabric before he brought it out and stared at the identical device. He had burrowed the Auror robes from the man back in his cell.
Izar bounced back in a crouch, rolling on his heels and thinking. His first instinct was to destroy it. It would be only logical. But…
He rubbed his face, hearing the footsteps and feeling the auras coming closer to his position. His fingers acted as an anxiety relief as they tapped lightly on his skin before caressing. If he couldn't get out within the time-limit Voldemort set for him, Izar would have to admit defeat and the Dark Lord would take matters into his own hands. Defeat was not an option for Izar.
Snapping open his eyes, Izar pocketed the Auror device once again and grabbed the dead Auror's robes. He pulled the corpse along the corridor and toward the open lift. Propping the body against the wall, Izar stood back just as the Aurors turned the corner. The Black heir offered a cocky grin and waved sweetly just as the lift door closed. He pulled the lever, dropping the lift toward the lowest level of the Ministry.
However, just as they hit level five, the lift gave a groan before coming to a sharp halt. The lights flickered off and an audible siren blared across the Ministry. Izar leaned against the wall of the lift, staring levelly at the now visible Dark Lord. The man was grinning ear to ear, staring at the open pocket watch he had given Izar as a gift. His long fingers clutched the piece of jewelry, tapping in rhythm of the seconds passing.
"This is your Minister for Magic speaking," a voice sounded over the intercom. It sounded like a pre-recorded tape of Minister Fudge. "Effective immediately, there will be a scheduled lockdown for all Departments in the Ministry. Halls and corridors will be cleared and employees will be asked to remain in their offices until the lockdown has been completed. Lifts exiting and entering the Ministry will be deactivated as will all Floo directories. Trained Aurors will be walking the corridors, aiding and escorting all visitors in the direction of assigned safe-zones. Anyone seen not complying with the lockdown will face possible suspension. Thank you for your compliance as we make our Ministry stronger and more secure."
Izar smiled thinly. Scrimgeour was closing down the Ministry? Granted it was late night, early morning, and there would hardly be any employees in the office at this hour. But the exits would be sealed off—deactivated. It only added a slight inconvenience for Izar.
"I hope your continued presence will not draw attention to my whereabouts," Izar warned darkly. "If it will—"
"Child, they already know your whereabouts," Voldemort commented airily. Crimson eyes traced obsessively over Izar's face before looking upward. "In fact, if I'm not mistaken, a fleet of Aurors are flocking in your direction."
"I was hoping as such." Izar dipped down low, kneeling on the ground. "How many minutes do I have left?" He pulled out his and the dead man's Auror device.
"Fourteen."
The statement made Izar stop short as he clutched the Auror's wand. "Bullshit. You're subtracting minutes. You just said thirty a few minutes ago."
Voldemort raised his eyebrows at Izar's coarse language. "You stated that you could make it out of here in twenty minutes. That was six minutes ago. Naturally, I deducted the necessary minutes in order to correlate with your over-confident declaration."
Izar cut off the dead Auror's hand and Transfigured it into a rat. The young wizard grabbed the squirming rodent before it could chew any holes in the lift. "I'll tell you what. I will make it out of here in fourteen minutes. Better yet, if I get out of here in ten minutes… you'll let me top next time…"
Silence came from the Dark Lord as the man considered his negotiation. Izar couldn't study the man's expression, for he was scrambling. He needed to accurately transfigure the rat to have the mind frame of running and hiding. The rodent was squirming in his hand as Izar tweaked the magical properties of the rat. A light blue glowed brightly around the rat's ears before Izar grabbed his Auror emergency badge and pried open the rat's mouth.
"Deal," Voldemort surprisingly agreed. "You may top, but I will still be the one delivering. And if you miss the ten minute mark, you're in my bed for the remainder of the week. Willingly opening your legs whenever I so chose." The man's tone was husky and possessive, making the hairs on the back of Izar's neck to stand.
Ignoring the man for a moment, Izar thrust the Auror emergency badge down the rat's mouth, making sure it went down the throat. "Absolutely not. No deal." He then released the rat, watching as it scurried around the lift, creating a distance between itself and Voldemort. The prodigy then made sure the dead man's Auror badge was securely inside the corpse's pocket before turning toward the lift door and ceiling.
"You're refusing a challenge? My, it sounds as if you don't believe you'll make it out of here in ten minutes."
Voldemort's words washed over Izar as he reinforced the lift door and ceiling with protection spells. He layered the wards so they created an onion-like appearance that only he could see. The Aurors were already trying to get inside, but Izar held his own. His wards were too strong. He knew magic. Obviously, he intended for the Aurors to break through the wards in a few minutes, so he created weak points in the protection barrier. Smirking, he added the last layer of wards to the lift, hiding it skillfully behind the protection charms. The Aurors would be in for a rude awakening when they hit their intended goal.
The whole lift shifted as an attack came from above. They were so predictable. So easy.
Izar then grabbed the rat and began cutting a hole at the bottom of the lift. He knew that there was a possibility that they would expect him to climb from the lift. But they wouldn't expect him to travel downward, especially if there were more than four levels beneath him. Charming his hands and feet to stick easily to the wall, he then tapped his wand on top his head, casting a nonverbal Disillusionment Charm. The sensation of cold liquid dripped down his back, causing Izar to shiver.
"If you make breakfast for me, then you've got yourself a deal," Izar called to Voldemort over his shoulder. The Black heir then placed a Weightless Charm on the rat and threw it down the hole. "Though, you better keep up with me. I'm not coming back to save your arse."
And then Izar jumped.
He withheld a delighted laugh as he fell. A part of him was tempted to let himself drop to the bottom. After all, he wouldn't die. But he had a shortened time limit now and falling to the ground would surely put him behind. Instead, he reached out and clung to the stone wall. His feet curled, touching the wall before he began running up the vertical incline. There was a minimal amount of space to fit past the suspended lift, but Izar managed to squeeze himself out from behind the elevator and further up the shoot.
His eyes ghosted over toward the Aurors who were standing on the floor above the suspend lift and attacking it. Fools didn't even flinch as Izar made his way up the wall next to their wands. He could have easily beheaded them on his way up, but thought better of it.
"The monitor reads that he escaped the lift and jumped below…"
Izar exhaled in amusement as he scaled quickly up the wall and past level two. They were a ways behind him now, but Izar could still hear as half of the Aurors ran below to where the rat was leading them on a wild hunt. He knew he would have the Aurors split. One group would be on level four, attacking the lift from above. The second group would be on level five, trying to open the lift from the front. And then there was the third group who would take the chance and follow the rat that swallowed the Auror emergency badge. However, Izar was not naïve. Nor was Rufus. Scrimgeour was around here somewhere and he was not part of his crowd of soldiers.
Releasing the Disillusionment Charm from his body, Izar jumped out of the elevator shoot and onto the furthest peak in the Ministry. It was the overhang above the Ministry lobby. He crouched down low, peering over the ledge and down toward his exit. The grates were closed, making it impossible for him to Disapparate. Not only that, but there was an army of Aurors standing guard in symmetric rows.
Rufus Scrimgeour was standing at the forefront of the Aurors, his stance speaking volumes of his persistence to catch Izar.
Izar reached out an arm to his side where he could feel and sense Voldemort standing. "Follow my every move. There are a ridiculous amount of triggers around here. If you could see it… it's beautiful," he gushed. He brought up his hands in child-like wonder and smiled behind them.
There were Caterwauling Charms, Flagrante Curses, the Homenum Revelio, Intruder Charms, and the Protego Totalum. There was everything here and they were all waiting for someone to trigger it. It was a beautiful sight for a magic-sensitive. From pink to purple, to grey, to yellow… to neon green… all the colors were all but glowing in the dim Ministry.
They were different shapes and sizes as well. Some of the charms and curses were settled near the ground in a thin line while others appeared to be net-like. It was stunning. Izar peered closer to the sight below him. While there were booby-traps extremely close to where he was crouching currently, there was even more down below. The Aurors were standing stiffly, their shoulders almost brushing against the charms next to them. The charms would detect if any human was roaming about, if any Dark Magic was used, if any illusions were used…
A brilliant plan on Rufus' behalf. The man wouldn't expect Izar to creep into the depths of the Ministry like the other Aurors had expected. Instead, Scrimgeour created an illusion of Aurors waiting near the exit of the Ministry, but in reality, they were only props to lull Izar in a false sense of security. He would only be able to see the Aurors as the threat, not the triggers set around the whole lobby.
Regrettably, Izar was magic-sensitive and Rufus was oblivious to that fact.
No cage could keep Izar prisoner.
Suddenly, behind Izar and a few floors beneath, an explosion sounded before the whole Ministry seemed to tremble.
The Black heir remained crouching forward, grinning madly when he saw fire roar up the elevator shoot from the corner of his eye. It would appear as if the Aurors had finally broken through Izar's ward around the lift. Not all of them would make it out alive.
"Scratch that," Izar whispered as he fingered the wand in his hand. "Feel free to move at your own will."
He had an alternate plan. His original idea would take too long. Ducking and jumping over the detectors would take longer than his time limit and he couldn't be too sure if Voldemort would even care. After all, the man wanted Izar to take longer than his ten minutes which would likely now be—
"Four minutes," Voldemort hissed.
Izar gave a distracted hum as he watched the heads of the Aurors and Scrimgeour turn toward his position and to the general direction of the lift. The army was careful only to turn their heads, knowing that any sudden move would likely set off the sensors. With all these triggers lying around, Izar would have to do something a bit flashy and extreme. But that was definitely more his style than hoping and jumping like a fool over the triggers.
Casting another Disillusionment Charm on himself, Izar toed the edge of the platform. He was careful of avoiding any of the sensors before raising his wand. "Adveloare, obticeoere," he whispered, causing a smoke-like substance to hover around his wand point. It would make his curse invisible and silent to the human eyes.
Izar then stood, snapping his cloak around his legs in order to give himself more leg room. Raising his wand, he thrust it in the air. "Ingenero erraticus." As soon as the last syllable left his mouth, Izar jumped from the high platform. His spell raced through the Ministry lobby, triggering every hidden charm and curse it could find. The magic went haywire, shooting off sparks and setting off alarms.
He landed in a deep crouch before he hurdled up and sprinted toward the Disapparation grates. As he neared the Aurors, he dropped his Disillusionment Charm and merged into the group. They were on edge as the detectors continued to go off, they wouldn't take notice of his extra body. He grinned broadly, making his way through the mess that was once a perfectly aligned group of Aurors. They crowded together, their wands out and ready but having nothing to aim at. Their superiors were shouting at them to remain calm and collected.
"Where are we aiming?" Izar asked quietly toward a female Auror.
"Nowhere for now," she replied back, glancing at him just briefly from the corner of her eye. "We don't want to add extra disorder in this environment. Just keep yourself steady. He's around here somewhere."
"Hmm…" Izar passed her and ducked closer to the closed exits. "I heard the Minister was actually Izar Black under Polyjuice Potion. What do you think of that?" he asked a tall man in front of him. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if one of us were Izar Black."
The grey-haired man just grunted, finding little humor in Izar's words as he focused on the balcony above. The Black heir grinned as he ducked below a few scurrying Aurors as they moved skillfully away from one of the curses that had gone off due to Izar's earlier spell. He was pushed through the patch of wizards and close toward one of the gates. Dropping his wand down his sleeve, he banished the bars from the grate but quickly put up an illusion that made it appear as if they were still there.
Just as stealthily, Izar ripped away the Anti-Disapparation Charm around the grate with his magic-sensitivity.
This was all too easy.
"Keep your guard up!" Rufus roared only a few feet from Izar's current position. "Be wary of your neighbor. He is among us, dressed as one of us."
The Auror next to Izar peered down at him through bottle-like glasses. The beady eyes widened, but before he could lift a wand or mutter a curse, Izar was already on him. "Animus Lapis," he whispered before dodging sideways and further down the crowd's perimeter.
"He's here!" the Auror yelled before giving a horrified scream as his legs turned into stone.
Everyone's horrified attention turned toward the Auror just as Izar snuck the opposite direction. Inching closer to the Apparation grates, he watched as the Auror gradually turned solid. The man's stance had been unbalanced when Izar had cast his curse, thus, when the man turned completely into stone, gravity took a hand in the completion. Falling forward, the Auror's body shattered into pieces as it hit the ground.
Izar backed up into the Apparation grate, standing on the other side of the imaginary bars that separated himself from the Aurors. It didn't surprise him that the first to notice him was Rufus. The Minister's yellow eyes widened in disbelief. Oddly enough, the Minister didn't make a motion to attack him. The man's lips tugged downward before they lifted at the corners.
It was a pity that it had been so easy for Izar. Now that the Minister would figure out he was magic-sensitive, perhaps things would become more of a challenge.
"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our duel, Minister." I have a Dark Lord that needs to prepare me breakfast. "Until next time."
Izar saluted Rufus before Disapparating.
As his body raced through time and space, he realized he never did get his picture taken for the wanted fliers…
Bloody hell.
{Death of Today}
"I said I wanted bacon, not sausage," Izar murmured distractedly as he pushed the plate away from him.
"You insolent brat," Voldemort hissed. Across from the small dining room, Nagini was settled on top the armchair in front of the fireplace. She was watching the two wizards in interest. "We were out of bacon. You can either throw a fit or you can choke them down with a damned smile."
"Hmm," Izar flipped through the Daily Prophet. "You're a wizard, are you not? It shouldn't take too long to get your hands on some bacon." The Black heir turned a page, raising his eyebrows at the lack of description of this morning's events. It was very clipped, very short. The number of deaths was even rounded down. But then again, Izar and Voldemort had just gotten back to the base. The media was likely trying to scramble for details from the Ministry's closed lips. This would be a good opportunity for Tom Riddle to show his face once again to the public. Rufus Scrimgeour's repetition would go further downhill after this.
"You can either ask a House-elf for assistance." Izar threw a look at Nagini. "Or you can skin Nagini and fry her. I'm sure she won't miss a few pounds off her incredible bulk."
The serpent reared up and hissed crossly at Izar. Her hood expanded in defensive anger and her tail curled in a sharp hook.
He turned his attention away from the faux Horcrux and on to the man who remained standing motionless. The younger wizard sighed, catching sight of the prepared plate of breakfast. Admittedly, it looked delicious. Izar remembered the day he had woken up from his transformation. Voldemort had prepared dinner for the both of them with a surprising amount of knowledge on the culinary arts.
Three pancakes were stacked next to scrambled eggs and four links of sausage. In a separate bowl, there was cinnamon-flavored porridge with two raspberry scones. The best entrée? The glass of thick red liquid sitting across from him. Blood to replenish the energy that he had lost during the interrogation.
"I'll let your blunder slide, this time," Izar quipped. Before he could reach for his glass of blood, a hand grabbed his chin.
"You were impressive today," Voldemort breathed, bending low at the waist. The Dark Lord's opposite hand stroked Izar's cheek roughly before dancing upward and curling in Izar's roots. "And because of it, your cheek will be tolerated."
Izar gave a cheeky grin as the man leaned forward and crushed his lips against his own. He had been aware of the Dark Lord's excitement during their escape. How could he not be when he felt the enthusiastic spark in the man's aura whenever Izar killed someone? It was to be expected. Even Izar had felt hot and bothered whenever Voldemort was close during their exit.
It would be so easy to claim his prize now, Izar thought as he twisted his fingers in Voldemort's robes. Despite the fact that Izar would still be on the receiving end, he would be on top. As appealing as that may be, Izar wasn't in the mood. He needed to get substance in his body in order to regenerate his lost energy and he needed to shower.
The young wizard pulled away, staring levelly in the crimson eyes. "Before I was captured, I discovered Hogwarts' weak spot in the wards." Izar had to turn away from the aroused stare. Just because he wasn't in the mood now didn't mean Voldemort wasn't. Turning both his attention and the conversation around would chill the atmosphere until the Dark Lord became settled.
"Is that so?" the Dark Lord inquired. "Your comrades lead me to believe that you were not successful." The man took a seat across from Izar.
"That's because I purposely acted indifferent when I revealed it." Izar took hold of his glass and drank the thick liquid. It slid down his throat, satisfying his minor thirst and depleted energy. "I don't trust anyone. Who knows what kind of mishap they can get into if they knew where the weak point was?"
Voldemort issued an interested sound in his chest. "Very cunning," he praised silkily. "You're improving each day."
There was a double meaning behind his words. The man was both proud and cautious. As it should be. Voldemort was gradually teaching him the steps of becoming a powerful force. It would impress the Dark Lord when Izar was making noticeable strides, but there was also need for attentiveness. There would come a day when Izar was on his level and Voldemort would need to adjust his thinking just as quickly. The worse thing the man could do was underestimate Izar and believe that he would always be a student. Because that wouldn't be the case and Izar could easily play on that assumption.
"Dumbledore hasn't told Scrimgeour of my immortality. I can only assume that they're on odds." Izar stabbed a piece of egg.
The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair. "The Ministry hardly ever allies itself with a Lord. Their possessive of control because they find it difficult to accept they are not on level with a Lord's power. Thus, they need a powerhouse to reassure themselves they are one and not a mere minion of a Lord. Rufus Scrimgeour is no different. He's always been an independent leader. To accept Dumbledore's help would make him feel inferior."
"Makes sense," Izar spoke through the pancake in his mouth. Ignoring Voldemort's look of disdain, he waved his fork in the air. "I'm curious to know if Rufus will tell Dumbledore we were outside Hogwarts. Even if he did tell the Headmaster, it wouldn't matter much to us."
"Oh?" Voldemort leaned forward, eyeing Izar penetratingly. "And why is that?"
Izar placed his fork back on the table, curling his hands underneath his chin. "Even if Dumbledore knew I was magic-sensitive and I was looking for the wards' weak spot, there is nothing he could do. Over years of warding the school, it creates a knot in the spellwork. No matter how powerful Dumbledore may be, he cannot make that knot disappear. If he reinforces the wards, it may make it more difficult to unravel, but the knot will just get bigger. We'll be able to strip apart the wards."
"What if he were to take down all the previous protection wards and just use one? It would get rid of the knot, would it not?"
The Black heir grinned tightly. "That would be a very large mistake on his part. Not only would it make Hogwarts more vulnerable, but I could just rip away that one layer with simplicity. You see, there has never been a magic-sensitive like me before. Cygnus made it possible for me to strip magic from objects and pinch a wizard's core. Other magic-sensitives can just see and sense auras, they cannot strip it. I hardly see an opportunity for Dumbledore to use something against me. We'll be able to attack Hogwarts just as you planned."
Voldemort sat in silence for a good while, no doubt absorbing the information Izar just fed him. "You need to eat more," the man chided.
Izar looked down at his plate. His body did not need food, yet it gave him energy. Quite frankly, he wasn't in the mood to choke down more food, doubtless of the fact that it tasted appealing. "You're a mother hen."
Something danced wickedly behind Voldemort's eyes and a cruel smile spread across his thin lips. Izar paused, wondering at the expression. His answer came to him when a knock sounded at the door. The Dark Lord's expression only turned more gleeful at the sound, evidence that he had known someone was approaching before it happened.
"You might want to get that, child," the Dark Lord whispered darkly. Crimson eyes were bright as they watched Izar. "I'm afraid our guest will not be leaving… anytime soon."
Dread and apprehension settled in Izar's stomach. It took him a few seconds to move from his chair and toward the door. The individual standing on the other side had a strong and familiar aura. It couldn't be… no… it couldn't. He wouldn't be so stupid.
Izar opened the door, staring dumbly at the hooded figure. The man was standing tall, making Izar even more off-balance.
"Izar," the man breathed, reaching out and touching his cheek.
There was only one man Izar knew whose fingers were heavily decorated by rings. The cold metal touched his skin, bringing Izar out of his haze.
"Regulus?"
{Notes} A lot of you asked about Izar being able to kill himself through pinching his creature-core and doing something like… jumping off a cliff. That still wouldn't kill him, per say, it would just mute his creature abilities. He would be in indescribable amount of pain and a few limbs out of place. But considering he does not need to breathe or have a beating heart, he wouldn't die. However, Izar has a theory that if he shut off his creature-core completely, it would kill him. He doesn't even have to do anything after closing his core because as soon as it is closed entirely, it would kill him. This isn't proven and it's only his speculation because creatures need their magic to survive. Hopefully that makes sense.
