AN: I just noticed that I missed my deadline… sorry about it guys, here's the chapter.
Oh, and as always I own nothing at all here.
CHAPTER 21 - Dread return
Normally Chandra would have tried to land on her feet after the impromptu teleport, or at the very least to roll away from the apparition spot. Instead two of those nauseating things in a relatively short amount of time had put her stomach to the test, and it had apparently been found unworthy: that's why as soon as her feet touched the ground she collapsed on her hands and knees and heaved. Fleur moved away in the nick of time, minister Fudge wasn't so lucky.
"What a poor spectacle," rasped a voice not far from them, somewhat behind the pyromancer's shoulders "Kill the spares, Lucius."
Whoever was the speaker, he sounded like an extremely old or ill man who has exerted himself too much.
Many things then happened nearly at the same time: Chandra pushed on her arms and rolled to her right hoping to avoid at least the first salvo of spells, Fleur crouched and shouted something about the cup, Fudge looked up from his shoes and demanded an explanation before quickly getting down, and a different voice located roughly near the first said "Avada kedavra!" twice in quick succession.
The redhead rolled out of the way and got up on shaky legs to see two acid green spells missing both the minister and her friend, both of whom touched the cup and disappeared before their attacker could cast again. Said man –although it was hard to tell genders with the black cowl and skull mask the voice had sounded male– put down the bundle he had been carrying in his free arm and rounded on her. Deciding that discretion was good only when she wasn't risking her life, Chandra charged up a fireball in each hand and threw them in the disorienting trajectory typical of her pyrohelixes. Unfortunately for her, her spell snuffed out as the flames got sucked into a glowing red rune carved in the ceiling.
"Stupid girl, did you think I wouldn't have prepared for you and your flames?" came the raspy voice from the bundle while the man cast a series of stunner at her "That rune will absorb every fire spell cast in this room!"
It was bad news for the pyromancer: first and foremost because the number of non fire-related spells she could produce was close to zero, and second because there was no obvious way out of the room, which was a simple cube of unadorned, unmarked stone walls.
She carefully thought back to the voice's words while twisting out of the spells trajectory: the rune absorbed fire, which meant that she could probably overload it with a continuous stream of flames given enough time and mana, but she doubted the man would hold still that long. This left her with two viable options: relying on what little unarmed combat she had gathered from Gideon's lessons, or using something so big that it would likely blow the rune in one go. No option was particularly attractive since the man could use magic and was probably stronger and better trained than her, while the only spell she could think of that was definitely powerful enough was the Worldfire.
She dearly wished she could channel dragonfire like Sarkhan Vol –that was pretty much unstoppable, rune or not– before sprinting towards the man, right first held back to strike.
"Stop the girl, Lucius!" hissed the voice and the man tried again with a veritable hail of stunners.
She once again managed to dodge the spells, occasionally using some minor flares to safely detonate them mid-flight, and got close enough to punch the masked man in the gut. He bent over, but unfortunately for her she couldn't capitalize on it because the raspy voice hissed a "Stupefy!" and everything turned dark.
Chandra awoke to a stinging sensation in her right arm.
She opened her eyes and saw that she was in the same room from –tied with chains to a column of some sort that had most certainly been aptly conjured– and that a large stone cauldron had been added to it. While a foul-smelling concoction bubbled in the basin emitting large plumes of acrid smoke, one cowled individual tended to the fire while another held the bundle and a third one was carving a bloody line in her arm after having removed her gauntlet.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will renew your son," chanted the man holding the bundle –the one she had punched judging by the voice– before levitating a human femur from a bag on the floor onto the cauldron.
The potion turned bone white and stilled its bubbling, but the smoke intensified, which made the room even less ideal for that kind of practice.
"Flesh of the servant, freely offered. You will revive your master," continued the one manning the fire –another man, maybe older than the other one– before taking out a silver knife and cutting off his own left hand.
The potion turned a murky brown and bubbled furiously.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. You will resurrect your nemesis," added the third one –a woman this time– before scuttling back to the cauldron and dropping in it what blood had been on the knife.
The potion turned the color of tar for a brief instant, then it cleared and started to simmer and the bundle pronounced it was ready. The first man stepped closer and carefully let the contents of the bundle –a rachitic little boy with deathly pale skin and no hair– fall into the potion.
The concoction started to bubble furiously, more than ever before, forcing the three to take a step back to avoid any flying droplets. Then the smoke turned bone white and became so thick it obscured the view. The trio started to share worried murmurs only for a tall and lean figure to emerge from the cauldron.
"Robe me," commanded the same voice that had come from the bundle, albeit sounding less sick and raspy and more like a hiss.
The woman moved immediately to give the figure a dark robe and a pale wand. As the smoke dissolved, Chandra could see a man with the same general features of the child in the bundle but decidedly healthier. He had a regal bearing, like he expected everyone to adore him as a king or a god, and judging from the way his servants grovelled at his feet it was kind of understandable. He reminded her of Bolas, if she was being honest, albeit on a less grandiose scale.
"Finally face to face again, Potter," said the man staring at Chandra with a triumphant smirk "You'll have to excuse me why I tend to my servants. Amycus, your hand."
The man who had cut off his hand held up the hastily bandaged stump and his master conjured a silver hand for him before demanding the other arm. He then exposed a dark tattoo and pressed his wand on it. The man screamed –which was telling considering he had barely whimpered when cutting off his hand– but it lasted barely ten seconds, then similarly garbed figures started appearing and kneeling in front of the pale man.
In that moment Chandra finally recalled why the dark cowls and mask had given her the impression of being important: it was the same of the trio Malfoy had called, it was the garb of Death Eaters, Voldemort's servants. Which in turn meant that the pale man was the dark wizard himself, back from the dead.
While Voldemort made his displeasure known to his servants for not coming to look for him in over a decade –and admittedly, Chandra could kind of understand both his feelings and why his followers did what they had done– the pyromancer was thinking how she could escape the situation she was in.
The rune was still up for what she knew, and even if it wasn't melting the chains would likely kill her. Even worse, they had removed her gauntlet, which meant that any spell she cast was liable to escape control and raze a good portion of the surrounding area, herself included. She tried feeling for an outward path, but found that the place had been warded similarly to Hogwarts, so no planeswalking either. Her only real chances were hoping that Voldemort would do something monumentally stupid like giving her a fighting chance, or hoping Fleur and Fudge sent reinforcements.
"But now enough with our reunion," said the dark wizard catching the girl's attention "We're making our guest wait. Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, the only person to ever defy me and live to tell the tale."
As his minions mutely bore watch, he stepped out of the cauldron and moved towards her with deliberate calm.
"The name's Chandra Nalaar, I tire of repeating myself," said the redhead trying her best not to snarl.
"Of course dear, because you're much more than what you were thirteen years ago. You're a capable young woman, allied with a dark witch and supposedly able to walk through dimensions," listed the man stopping close enough that she could stare into his ruby irises "I hunger for your secrets, but there's a question that I see coursing through my companions minds: who is stronger between us? They need to see with their eyes, that's why I'm going to free you, to duel you, and to finally demonstrate my superiority."
That said, he swished his wand and the chains disappeared in a puff of dark gray smoke, letting her free.
"Unless you want this to be a stain on your honor, I'll need my gauntlet and that rune deactivated," said Chandra using the barest trickle of her power to seal the wound in her arm.
"Indeed, what's worth a victory against an unarmed opponent?" said Voldemort tapping his chin with his own wand "Very well Chandra Nalaar, gather your focus and I'll disable the rune. You all, stun her if she tries backstabbing me, otherwise don't interfere."
The pyromancer cautiously moved to her gauntlet, letting her eyes dart between the dark wizard and his silent minions. She carefully strapped it back in its place and checked the mobility while Voldemort cancelled the rune on the ceiling.
"The preparations are complete, time to meet your fate!" he stated flourishing a small bow.
Remembering it to be ritual or something from her duel with Pansy, she imitated him albeit more stiffly.
"The niceties are done too. Lucius, give the signal," ordered Voldemort bringing the wand in front of his face, tip to the ceiling.
Chandra, knowing it to be the moment to get serious, donned her goggles and ignited her hair.
The man she had punched earlier gave the signal to begin and his master exploded into motion, casting silently a barrage of multicolored spells. The pyromancer dropped to one knee and slammed both palms on the ground, summoning a wall of bright orange flames as high as the room was tall and just as wide, then rolled to the left. Some of the colorful projectiles were stopped, but some pierced the wall to hit where she had been standing. She didn't wait to see what he would do and instead made a pushing motion that sent the wall crashing ahead while gathering mana for something bigger.
The wall collapsed on itself and changed into a flaming snake that Voldemort directed her way like an opera conductor. Chandra retaliated with a compressed heat ray that pierced the construct to get the dark wizard, who spun on his heel to teleport some meters to the left, his wand already slashing down.
"Avada kedavra!" he cried sending a singular emerald green spell Chandra's way.
She jumped to the side and slammed a fist on the ground to create a small geyser of lava that curved its plume to hit him. Sure that it would miss, she added a pyrohelix aimed slightly left and right of him.
Like he had done earlier, Voldemort teleported out of harm's way to the other side of the room already screaming: "Crucio, crucio, crucio!"
Three angry red spells flew her way leaving no room for a dodge so she summoned a pyrophoenix to take the hit for her, which it did before cawing piteously and bursting into flames.
"I must admit girl I am impressed," said Voldemort without dropping his ready stance "You can match me spell for spell like only Dumbledore ever could, but you're not burdened by his meaningless morals. It would be a waste to kill you, so join me."
As he made his offer, he dropped his guard to spread his arms, an almost universal gesture to communicate his intent.
Chandra weighted her options: she could keep on fighting till either him or his minions killed her, or pull a Liliana and fake accepting his offer. Actually accepting was out of question: from the little she knew of him, his ideals were too distant from hers, so no dice.
She was spared actually giving an answer when a loud bang echoed from somewhere above the ceiling and dust fell from it.
"My Lord, the wards have collapsed!" said the one identified as Lucius in an obviously scared tone "Someone is attacking!"
"Go and kill whoever dares interrupt me," ordered the dark wizard snarling before turning his attention back to Chandra "Your answer girl?"
She threw a fireball as big as he was tall in his direction, then planeswalked away in a brilliant explosion of flames.