Even as I post this, I am writing the last 1 to 2 chapters of PotDS, so that means the poll is painfully close to ending, so if you have not voted, do so now before it is closed (within the next 2 weeks is my venture of a guess) Anyway, many thanks to those who review, please continue to do so! the support mean far more than you may realize. Enjoy!
Chapter Forty Three
Schemers and Dreamers
Veneficus smirked as he caught sight of the reporter that was covering the Tournament. While he personally had never paid much attention to the Daily Prophet, he was well aware that the media had a powerful influence in the wizarding world. So to that end he would be well advised to befriend one of the leading reporters for said paper.
It didn't take long for his presence to be noted by those occupying the room. Bagman practically jumped at the sight of him. "Ah! Here he is, Champion number three! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighting ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment..."
The flighty and quite irritating man continued speaking, but Veneficus was already past listening. More keenly, he was gauging the attitudes of the other competitors, as well as their reporter friend. Krum was standing in the far back, moodily silent, while Delacor was silently posing for the very distracted cameraman that the reporter had brought with her. Said reporter, by contrast, had eyes only for Veneficus himself.
"This is Rita Skeeter," Bagman introduced, waving the woman and her cameraman over, "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."
"Maybe not that small Ludo," Rita said softly, her eyes refusing to move from Veneficus. Inwardly, he grinned. This was going to be all too easy. "Miss Skeeter," he said, offering his hand for hers, and kissing the back polity when she took his, "a pleasure to meet you, I've read all your articles naturally, and I have to say I am quite impressed with your view of things..."
"Oh, really?" she said, eyes gleaming behind her jeweled spectacles. "Well, perhaps you would care to give an interview in the little time we have before the ceremony? To add a bit of color to the youngest champion, you know?"
"I'd be simply delighted," Veneficus replied, smiling in a singularly pointed way.
"Lovely," Rita replied, gesturing to a vacant corner of the room, near an open broom cupboard. "We don't need to be near all that extra noise while we're trying to seek out truth, don't we?" she said, her voice sickeningly sweet.
"You mean one particularly large and annoying source of noise I take it..." Veneficus countered, making her chuckle to herself, "yes, well, we mustn't be too truthful about some things, now should we?"
"Indeed," the Sith Lord agreed immediately, "the truth can be a most powerful and dangerous tool and weapon, and only those capable and trustful enough to possess it should have it."
"I can see we are going to get along swimmingly," Rita said, smiling, as she unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which floated up just inside her field of vision, but out of the way for her to be able to speak directly to Veneficus, "You wouldn't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill do you Harry? It leaves me free to talk to you normally..."
"So long as I can trust you to spin things in a way to be in... our mutual favor..." Veneficus said, brushing her mind ever so slightly with the Force. The woman was a snake, like all those in the media, but even she had her desires that could be exploited like any other. She wanted a scoop, something to act as a firebrand across the wizarding world, and to denounce those who angered her personally. Veneficus could use this with no problems.
"That would depend I guess, Harry, on what your interests are now wouldn't it..." she said sweetly, still thinking she was speaking to an easily manipulated child. The woman placed the tip of the quill to her lips, sucking on it for a moment before releasing it to hover over the parchment once again. "Testing… my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter…"
Casting a sidelong glance at the parchment so the woman wouldn't notice, quickly reading that the quill had written more along the lines of what the woman was thinking rather than what she had said. 'Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, who's savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations…'
"Lovely," she said, ripping the piece of written on piece of the parchment away and finally leaning in conspiratorially toward Veneficus. "So, Harry… what made you decide to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament, at your age?"
The quill was already scratching across the parchment as the Sith opened his mouth, "Oh you know Rita, bit of excitement, sticking it to Dumbledore, something of a challenge in a place where I feel less than accomplished…"
Whatever reasons Rita was expecting, those three was clearly not them. She raised her eyebrows and the quill slowed its frenzied scratching, "Are you saying you don't approve of the Headmaster, or the curriculum at Hogwarts?"
Veneficus smiled, he had her now. "I wouldn't say that I disapprove of the curriculum here, but I feel restrained by being so much farther ahead than my classmates, Slytherin tendencies I've been told, you know how that is," he added with a wink, which Rita smiled at. "Dumbledore however, I feel that the man is trying to be a bit more involved with my life that he has place to… I have a guardian, but time and again he is muscling in to exert some amount of control over me, whether it's setting teachers to follow me, or restricting my ability to attend Hogsmeade without a cause…"
The woman was lapping it all up. Her dislike of the headmaster was so apparent, and the ammunition that Veneficus had, even if some was partial and speculation at best, was too tempting of an offer. "Would you say that Dumbledore seems to feel entitled to routinely control and manipulate his students, or that he had a special focus on you solely?" she asked.
"Oh, I have no doubts that his sights are focused singularly on me for the time being," Veneficus replied, casually leaning against the wall, "but I wouldn't put it past the man to want all his little ducks in a row at all times."
Rita was grinning madly by this point, the quill racing across the parchment trying to keep up with her thoughts. Eventually she calmed herself a bit, "Well, as exciting as all that may be, we do have to talk about the Tournament a little bit, don't we?" she said, smiling, "How do you feel about the tasks that lie ahead?" she asked.
"Not too much of either, to be honest, with all the dangers I've had to put up with the last three years, what's a Ministry regulated Tournament?" Veneficus replied, smiling and she widened her eyes again at all that he implied.
"Champions have died in the past," she reminded him, "have you thought about that at all?"
"Can't say that I did, fear is a power that only affects the weak and unworthy… I strive to be above that level of weakness." The Sith Lord replied instantly.
"Of course," Rita said, nodding knowingly, "you've looked death in the face before, haven't you? How would you say that's affected you?"
"Every experience makes me stronger," Veneficus replied, "I won't allow myself to accept anything less."
Just then, the door to the room opened, admitting Dumbledore and the other judges. Rita snatched her quill and parchment out of the air before anyone could spot them, and smiled as she spoke to Veneficus, "Well, I think this will add quite a special addition to the Prophet in upcoming editions, thank you Harry. I hope we have time in the future for another little chat."
"The pleasure would be mine Rita…" Veneficus said smoothly, stepping away before Dumbledore made any motions toward them to split him from the reporter.
"Dumbledore!" Rita cried, striding over to him, "How are you?"
Veneficus saw the distraction for what it was, and smiled that the woman was siding with him against the old Headmaster at the very least. The results of her article would decide if she was to be trusted with any of the more sensitive information that the Sith Lord would want 'leaked' to the Wizarding world.
Quickly, Veneficus returned to where the other two Champions were waiting, alongside their respective Headmasters, and from the back wall near a large window the Sith spotted the strange wand maker, Ollivander. Given the nature of the ceremony, it made sense that he would be present, under the pretext of examining the champions' wands for any sign of defect.
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Albus quickly pried himself away from Miss Skeeter, unpleasant woman that she was notwithstanding, so that he could introduce Mr. Ollivander and get the Wand weighting ceremony underway. However, seeing Harry speaking, willingly, with the reporter had taken priority. Thankfully, now with the situation as under control as Albus could have managed, he was able to present the wand maker to the judges and champions alike, and allow the ceremony to begin.
Sitting amid the other headmasters, Albus leaned forward to see as Ollivander stepped forward to examine the three Champion's wands. he was most eager to learn anything that the wand maker had to saw regarding Harry's wand, and whether the boy had been up to any dark magic, which would have quickly tainted the phoenix feather core, much the same as Tom's had been.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Ollivander started, holding out a hand for the young woman's wand.
The part-Veela gracefully swept over and handed her wand over without a fuss. "Hmm…" Ollivander said, rolling it over in his hands. Albus was always interested in the old man's methods of wand lore. Soon enough Ollivander was twirling the wand like a baton between his fingers until it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Finally he held it up to his eye, observing the wood quality.
"Yes…" he said quietly at last, "nine and a half inches… inflexibly, made of rosewood… and containing… dear me…"
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," Fleur finished. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
"Yes," Ollivander agreed. "Yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own, and if this suits you…" Albus was intrigued, but only momentarily. The girl was neither magically powerful nor exceptionally creative. Madam Maxime clearly had brought her and made certain that she would be entered as a favor to the wealthy Delacour family that greatly helped finance the school in France.
Ollivander finally muttered, "Orchideous," and conjured a small bouquet of flowers, before declaring himself satisfied and returning the wand, calling for Krum's next.
"Hmm," the wand-maker said as he examined Krum's wand, while Karkaroff watched with narrowed eyes. "This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…"
The man broke off, and Albus smiled, knowing that for all his opinions in wand-making, Ollivander would never speak ill of another being in the world. "Ah, yes… hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" Ollivander said, looking at Krum for confirmation. The boy nodded and Ollivander smiled. "Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches…Avis!"
There was an enormous blast, and bird soared out of the end of the Durmstrang boy's wand. "Good," Ollivander announced, returning the wand to Krum, "and this leaves, Mr. Potter…"
Harry obediently produced the holly and phoenix feather wand that Albus had arranged for him to acquire. It only made sense for Voldemort's defeater to wield the brother wand of the Dark Lord. Albus leaned forward slightly, eager to hear anything that Ollivander might find amiss with this wand. If there was even a trace of dark magic, the creator would know.
"Aaaah, yes," Ollivander said as he set sight on the holly wand. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember…" reverently the older man took the wand in hand, turning it over and scrutinizing it with a critical eye. Albus almost held his breath, hoping against hope that Ollivander would declare the wand tainted and prove everything that Albus had feared.
Ollivander glanced at Harry over his glasses, "You've been taken exceptional care of this wand, Mr. Potter, it is in perfect working condition." And without another word, Ollivander returned Harry's wand and looked toward the judges with a small smile, satisfied.
Albus was disappointed, but stood anyway, "Thank you all." Turning to the three Champions, he continued, "You may go back to your lessons now… or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end…"
"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Ludo Bagman cried excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think Rita?"
"Err…" the woman looked slightly caught off guard, and pulled her eyes from watching Harry specifically, "yes, let's do those first… and then perhaps some individual shots…"
Albus didn't like the glint in the woman's eye. Having been at Hogwarts while Rita was at school, he remembered how she had been then, and she was on the hunt of a story if anything. If not for the far more pressing case of proving that Harry was being negatively influenced by his guardian, and that someone, Albus himself preferable, should take up that role, took precedence.
It was during this time, when the photographer called for each Headmaster with their Champion, as Albus placed a hand on Harry shoulder for the camera that the boy glanced up at him. As the aged Headmaster momentarily met the boy's eyes, he paled as Harry's face flashed into a picture of horror, red eyed and pale skinned as any Dark Lord before or after.
Before he could react, or even do more than blink, Harry was back to normal, just smirking up at him as the camera flashed. Even afterward, as the boy walked away, Albus wasn't sure of what he had seen, the boy as he was now, or the future if he didn't act. Or could his brilliant mind be slipping after all these years?
There was little for it at the moment, with so many observers. Albus had to recheck this memory, and see if anything had happened to interfere with his vision regarding Harry at that exact moment. Perhaps Severus or Alastor would be willing to give an outsiders outlook as well.
Until that time however, he had nothing to go on but the fact that he had seen that horrific vision once before, nearly three years ago, in the hospital wing after the boy had destroyed Flamel's Stone. That was one of the many discrepancies that had led Albus down this path of inspection from the beginning, and if he was truly seeing it again, it might mean that he was closer to unraveling the mystery than he thought initially. With Harry in the Tournament, Blackmoore had to come to the school, not only as a Governor, but also to support his ward in the Tasks. It was the perfect opportunity to observe and gather more data regarding the man and his motives.
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Zhar glowered at the looming watch station that hung over the planet Tund like an overbearing parent, watching for any sign of misdeeds in their child. The Jedi were thoroughly arrogant, to believe that their Order was in authority to govern and manage the affairs of any world upon which Force users of a different sect were gathered. There were some out there, Zhar knew, like the Baran Do Sages, once having existed outside the Jedi's influence, had been eradicated by the Jedi once the world of Dorin world had joined the Republic. Daas'in had spoken of it once or twice, as a fundamental reason that he had joined Lord Millennial, he had once been one of these sages, and abhorred the hypocritical nature of the Jedi, who professed to respect other groups, but undermined them to the point of their absorption into their own order. At least the Sith were honest about their intentions.
Much the same happened to the thousands of smaller Force cults and religions, like these Sorcerers, where the Jedi felt was their directive to guide along the paths of Light, quashing any possible emergence of the Dark Side in any of these societies; like they had some Force-given mandate to rule all those touched and blessed by its power.
Regardless of these thoughts, Zhar still had to get past the station and onto the planet's surface. His ship sadly lacked the cloaking device that Lord Millennial's shuttle had, which transported the Sith Lords back and forth from their outcast world to Dromund Kaas, and therefore he had to devise an alternate means to bypass the stations sensors and the Jedi Watchmen aboard.
What he did have on his side, however, might just be enough to skim past with little notice. While on Korriban, Zhar had spent a copious amount of time studying the hunting habits of the native Hssiss, particularly their ability to shroud themselves in the Force from other Force sensitives.
It was an ability that Zhar felt was of particular importance for him to learn, especially with the Jedi specifically after him, so long as they remained unaware of his new masters. And so, drawing in upon himself, Zhar withdrew his presence in the Force until he was no more recognizable than the usual being.
"Unidentified freighter, you are approaching restricted space, turn back now or display the proper identification codes," demanded a republic security guard over the ship's communicator. Zhar almost laughed as he sent over the stolen codes that he acquired from the ship that had been scheduled to bring the station a supply of food stuffs and parts for droid and ship repairs. The poor workers that had manned the freighter hadn't know what hit them when Zhar had boarded, slain them and took possession of their ship. It, along with the actual provisions was settled on a nearby asteroid awaiting Zhar's return with some of the Sorcerers in tow.
The operator in the station acknowledged the code and permitted Zhar to fly past the station and enter the planet's atmosphere. This unfortunately was where the tricky part began. If the Jedi suspected him for a second as not being a simple supply delivery, they would pounce on him and attack the ship without mercy. Worse still was the fact that he had only the shortest of time limits to find the sorcerers, recover as many as would fit on his ship and come willingly, and make it back into orbit to not become suspicious.
Once well out of range of the station and hidden by the planet's aura, Zhar released his power in the Force, stretching out to sense the largest cluster of Sorcerers nearby for him to set down near.
Even with the heavy Light Side aura of the planet, Zhar was able to quickly find the location of a settlement of the Sith outcasts fairly quickly. Setting down the ship in a small wooded area nearby, Zhar departed quickly and made his way toward the place like following a beacon.
The power of the Light side was sickeningly thick on the planet's surface, and grew worse with every step towards the Sorcerer's camp. Zhar started to wonder if he needed to shroud his presence again, just in case the Sorcerers were prone to hostility against followers of the Dark Side, when he came into sight of one of the members of the settlement.
It was rather disturbing, seeing the large and fierce-looking figure, with his red skin and prominent facial ridges and spikes, working in such a lowly profession as farming. The male Sith was out in a primitive field, sweat pouring down the being's back as he tilled the dark earth with a rudimentary tool.
Zhar became cautious, could this be a trap? The man was obviously truly working here for his livelihood, but could he have simply not sensed Zhar's approach? The human had read that all of the Sith species were strong in the Force, especially the Dark Side, yet here was a perfectly normal being of the mysterious race that had germinated the most powerful and destructive empires in Galactic history.
"Greetings stranger," the Sith said in perfect basic, without turning or even indicating that Zhar's presence was anything of note. 'Well,' Zhar thought, 'So much for not being Force sensitive.'
He approached, stopping outside of the field the Sith was toiling in. standing, the red skinned being pulled a cloth from a trouser pocket and mopped his face. "You're a new one around these parts,' he said again, addressing Zhar, "What brings you to this world?"
The red Sith's overt friendliness was offputting for Zhar, and for a few moments he didn't respond.
"Well, don't be shy, speak up man," the Sith said, turning to Zhar at last. Despite the softness around the face, there was a worn and almost terrifying image to it that had to be from the being's heritage.
"I am Zhar Quelmok," Zhar said at last, deciding on at least partial honestly to begin with, "and I seek the Sorcerers of Tund…"
The man paused, frowning as he stared at Zhar for a moment. "Yes," he said, "you would be, wouldn't you…" the Sith set aside the hoe and pulled a light tunic over his bare chest. Stepping toward Zhar and extending a hand in the direction of the settlement, he continued "I will take you to the elders, but I warn you… You may not like what you find, my dark friend…"
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Anguis nearly snorted into his breakfast the day after Veneficus was taken out of Potions for his little Tournament ceremony and photo shoot. The Daily Prophet had really outdone themselves with the issue that reported the events that Rita Skeeter had been practically handed by the Sith Lord.
The article had taken the majority of the front page, plus three additional pages, with only a single paragraph at the beginning and end even referencing the Tournament. The rest seemed to be an in depth look at Veneficus' entry into the Tournament, and why Dumbledore had allowed it, regardless of the Sith being underage. Skeeter really hyped up the fact that there should have been better precautions to prevent the 'sweet charismatic boy,' from winding up, 'pitted against two far older students in three very dangerous tasks that no fourteen year old should have to consider.'
Even now, nine days later, people were still discussing the contents, and Dumbledore in particular was fuming over some of the dirtier secrets that the ravenous woman had dragged out into the light for the Wizarding World to see, including the Chamber of Secrets scare and the hiring and later vanishing of Lockhart, who was still at large with no leads to his whereabouts.
The woman even went so far as to accuse the Ministry for simply not caring enough about their world's boy hero, citing the pathetic attempts to recapture Sirius Black the previous year, up to the point where the man had entered Hogwarts castle under the noses of their Dementors not once, but twice, before finally being captured and kissed.
It was laughable how easily the Sith Lord had wrapped the reporter around his finger. While the Gryffindor group, led by Ronald and supported secretly by Lovegood, were keen to defend the image of Dumbledore through spewing bile and hate at the Sith Lord, much of the world was slowly waking up to the fact that the old man wasn't in his prime anymore, and may not be the best candidate to run all of their major political venues.
The ending paragraph had simple stated that 'Harry' hoped for safety for himself and the other champions during the tournament, and that nothing unfortunate occurred while he was at school this year, but Skeeter was swift to point out that that hope might well already be dashed, despite the security measures presumably being put into place this year, the Tournament is still the most dangerous and fatal magical game ever recorded.
Whatever the outcome, Veneficus was clearly pleased with the scheme he started with the paper, and even the taunts and childish jibes from Weasley and several other of the more loud spoken Gryffindors only made him smirk wider, although Anguis knew that the young Sith apprentice was biding his time until some later date.
The scheduled date for the first task was quickly approaching, but sadly, whether Veneficus had discovered what it was or not, he had never revealed such information to Anguis, as was the norm these days, with the pair growing farther apart, but the young Darksider took the opportunity to employ his limited contacts outside of the school to begin building a powerbase of his own, paying off certain politicians so that he could make certain of particular items of law got passed at the right time and place down the road.
Knowing what Anguis did about what the future was sure to bring, opening up this tiny speck of a world to the greater wonders outside the stars, certain people needed to be convinced of its superior options, some traditionalists would need to be silenced while other more progressive purebloods needed subtle support when they moved in favor of the release of Magi-technology.
Meanwhile, Anguis had a… personal reason to venture out to Hogsmeade without his master this day. While Veneficus may be content with playing mysterious and keeping to the castle and his known allies within it, Anguis felt the need to seek out others like himself, wizards who had been blessed with the touch of the Force. If he could bring these out of hiding, perhaps he could find an apprentice of his own, and have a place in the future order of the galaxy assured.
Meandering down the cold streets of the wizarding town, Anguis kept to himself, drawing on the Force to keep attention away from himself as he bypassed sweet and joke shops with their packs of students. Once, he may have been joining them in partaking of the many delights that this world offered, but such was the past now. Those short sighted children were of no use to Lord Anguis, not unless they possessed sensitivity over the Force like himself or Darth Veneficus.
Reaching his destination, the post office, Anguis removed from his robes the small missive that he had written privately, detailing to his contacts to scour the wizarding world looking for particular traits in children under Hogwarts age, and to keep tabs on those who expressed those characteristics. It would not be good for him to pursue an apprentice too soon, but he could seek out potential acolytes to use for his own ends.
As Anguis watched the owl carrying his letter soaring out over the rooftops, he pondered for a moment how much like Lord Millennial he currently was acting, seeking out a learner before he was separated from his master. Somehow, Anguis felt that the mutant human Sith Lord would have approved, so long as Anguis didn't rise to threaten the Sith.
Unfortunately, that was the very nature of the Dark Side, now wasn't it: to challenge those stronger and defeat them until you yourself were the embodiment of power. Currently it was held in the union of Millennial and Veneficus, but soon that aspect would boil to a head, the apprentice rising up to steal his master's role. Once, not too long ago Anguis had thought that he would be the one to take on the role of the apprentice, learning the vast Sith arts from Veneficus once the old three eyed monster was dead, but lately Anguis had a growing suspicion that the Sith had used up all immediate and true need for him, and were content to throw him aside until he proved worthy of their notice again.
So, either he would do so, and regain his favorable position in their eyes, or he would plan ahead to break away on his own.
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Remus lurched awake once again, groggily wondering for a factional moment who had come to disturb him this time. The door to his prison had indeed slid open and shut again, but with the lack of lighting and his own wearied mind. "Well…" said an eerily familiar voice, "so this is the captured beast that Lord Millennial has taken…"
Straining his eyes to make them focus, Remus stared through the gloom, trying to make out the face of his visitor. An orb of light flared, blinding the werewolf momentarily, and he blinked several times to clear the spots from his vision. When he finally saw who was here to torment him, his breath froze in his throat.
"Sirius…?" he whimpered, unsure of what he was seeing any longer.
The man who had once been one of his closest friends was smiling coldly down at him, dressed in flowing robes of black and scarlet, patterned with ancient runes that Remus had neither time nor attention to make out in any detail.
"Yes… and no," Sirius said, smirking in a way that was almost animalistic, showing far too much tooth to be human in origin. "This was him, once, and it remembers parts of that man, but he is no longer here…" Sirius tapped his own head, smirking morosely. "I am someone else, whom the great Lord Millennial has granted this body to use, to be useful to their return…"
Remus didn't understand, and shook his head to try and clear the fog-like haze he had been living under for the last several months. "Ah, I see, you are kept in the dark in more ways than one it seems," Sirius said, laughing slightly to himself. "How would it pain you to know that the monster that your precious boy has become was molded and shaped into what he was by the greatest human Dark Lord to ever live on this planet? Would you die a little more inside to know that every great event in young Harry's life had been altered and twisted to the end of conquering not only this world, but countless others beyond the stars?"
"No, that can't be true…" Remus moaned, still unable to fully understand.
"How it must tear you apart, to know that it was your own weakness, and that of Black's, that permitted the boy to be in the position where Lord Blackmoore, in his true self as the Dark Lord Millennial of the Sith, could come and find him, and take him to be brutalized into a machine of hatred and destruction…"
"Stop… Sirius…"Remus said, consciousness slowly fading from his vision.
Sirius just laughed, turning back to the door, "Enjoy your stay, werewolf, knowing that whatever monster you consider yourself, that the boy you swore to love and protect has become far greater and more terrible that you can possibly imagine."
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Bellatrix was still very weak from Azkaban, but already her Lord trusted her to move about the lower levels of his newest base at her will. At first, Bellatrix was quite put off the how extensively muggle it was, reacting quite violently to the metallic golem that had apparently assisted in nursing her back to health. The thing had been reduced to scrap after a flare of wandless magic, but the Dark Lord hadn't even batted an eye at the poor things destruction.
After having her promise not to destroy anymore of the technology in his base, with a promise that all would be explained when she was fully recovered, Bella had set to learning as much as she could about her Lord's new take on the magical/muggle paradigm, and why he had suddenly so abruptly changed from despising the filth as what they were to actually using their soulless mockeries of magic.
What she had found was both disturbing and strangely intriguing. The Dark Lord had apparently stumbled upon a power that the muggles had only begun to understand, and through magical means had perfected a means for wizard-kind to leave this pathetic world for destinations unknown, reaching beyond the outer limits of the stars.
From this strange harmony of muggle science and magical learning, Bellatrix had seen and learned so much that lay outside the limiting scope that they had labored under so long before. This world, the Ministry, wizarding culture as a whole, was but a tiny step in a much larger puzzle. The Dark Lord knew so much, and had learned so much more during his absence and Bellatrix's imprisonment. The Potter boy was no longer a threat, even more so he was their greatest asset, a child of destiny that would fuel their cause throughout the greater reaches of space called the Galaxy.
She had taken much delight in the records and scrolls that had detailed the histories and lore from the many worlds out there, finding each species beyond human more interesting and diverse than the last. It wasn't truly a matter of Wizards over muggles anymore; it was about those who had power, this Force, over all those who lacked it; the same struggle on a much grander scale. It was beautiful to Bellatrix, and she could see why her Lord would modify his plans in light of these revelations.
If muggle technology was required to reach these countless stars and assert the power they had over those who were not worthy to rule, then Bellatrix was willing, if not eager, to learn all she could to be of as greatest use to her Lord as possible. It was the very least she could do in repayment now, on top of everything that had been previously done in favor of her people over the years.
And Blacks always repaid their debts.
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Veneficus could sense something different in the castle grounds. The First Task of the tournament was drawing close, and this foreign presence could only be related in some way. Being Sith, Veneficus was not one to pass up any increase of knowledge, which directly translated into power. It was imperative therefore, for him to know what the first task related with, which was the primary motivation for him to sneak out onto the grounds the night after the Hogsmeade weekend.
The Sith Apprentice followed the foreign presence out toward the forest, bypassing the gamekeeper's hut and the Beauxbatons carriage in the process. As he approached, the half-giant man came out of his home, but Veneficus was skilled enough in stealth to conceal himself from the man's vision and hearing, not that much was needed. The large being was clearly intent on meeting with the equally massive Headmistress from the French school.
"Ah, 'Agrid… it is time?" Madam Maxime asked, striding over to the gamekeeper.
"Bong-sewer," Hagrid replied, beaming at the large woman despite his badly attempted French, and held out a hand for her to take. Together the pair of them set out across the grounds, in the same direction that Veneficus could sense the new presence in the forest. Stealthily, he followed them into the trees.
As he crept through brush and around trees in the wake of the two massive humanoids, the Sith Lord couldn't help but overhear their conversation. "Wair is it you are taking me, "Agrid?" Maxime asked.
"Yeh'll enjoy this," Hagrid replied, "worth seein', trust me. On'y – don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."
"Of course not," Maxime promised, fluttering her eyelashes, lying quite obviously to someone of Veneficus' intellect. It was apparent that the woman was using her particular version of charm on the lonely gamekeeper, trying to earn an advantage for her rather underwhelming pupil in the Tournament.
After that, Veneficus strove to tune out the hapless people and focused on trying to pinpoint where they were going and what was waiting for them. He heard the roars before he saw the flames launching into the sky. This deep into the forest it would be all but invisible from the castle.
Three massive, fully grown dragons were rearing up on their hind legs and roaring in an enclosure, fenced off by thick planks of wood, obviously enchanted to survive the power jets of fire that the dragons occasional shot out in irritation. Veneficus recognized the silvery-blue with long, pointed horns as a Swedish Short-Snout. There was also a bright crimson dragon with a fringe of gold spikes around its head; a Chinese Fireball.
Finally, the last was a gigantic black specimen, more lizard-like and fierce than the others, with its long spiked tail was a Hungarian Horntail. The twenty or so wizards handling the dragons were edgy and tense, trying to keep the beasts calm and retrained. They succeeded with all but the Horntail, which they were forced to stun between all of them, bringing the titanic creature down with a crash.
"Is'n' it beautiful?" Hagrid said softly from where he and Madam Maxime were standing, near to where Veneficus hid.
Soon the pair of massive people strode all the way up to the fence, and Veneficus hung back slightly, remaining out of sight as he observed. "Really romantic date Hagrid…" one of the handlers said jokingly to the gamekeeper, referencing Maxime, who seemed in awe of the dragons.
"So," Hagrid questioned, "it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do… fight 'em?"
"Just get past them, I think," the red haired handler replied, "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty. They wanted nesting mothers, but I don't know why… but I have to tell you Hagrid, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing at the best of times…"
Veneficus had seen enough. Sneakily making his way back to the castle, he started to run through a mental list of spells that could affect dragons without needed a group of wizards or a ritual. There were selectively few. But if the handler was right and he only needed to get past it, killing the beast was probably out of the question, as he would need extremely dark spells to do much damage through the thick hide, and that would tip Dumbledore off almost immediately to the truth.
He was spending far too much time just stringing the old man along at the moment, so he preferred to stay as mysterious as possible, dropping only enough hints to keep the Headmaster guessing, and second guessing, himself. Crouch Jr. was delivering regular reports of the old man's activities and ideas, and that gave the Sith Lord plenty of options to drag out the fears and worries that Dumbledore harbored toward his precious Boy-who-lived.
Crouch's advice on the dragon problem wouldn't be too far out of place either, Veneficus figured. If anything it would displace more attention from the Headmaster if he was thought to be seeking assistance for the tasks instead of going about them on his own.
As he bypassed the edge of the forest, Veneficus sensed and spotted Karkaroff lurking off to the side, staring through the trees toward where the dragons were hiding. A pity that all the champions were going to be on equal terms, as Veneficus would have loved to see one of his competitors encounter a dragon with no warning.
Alas, the pleasure was to be denied him, at least for this task. Perhaps in future he would be able to arrange things to mislead the other champions and further his own lead. For now however, he would suffice with continuing to mislead those trying to spy out his true intentions.