Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all other characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this version of the Mask belongs to New Line Cinemas; I'm just using them for this story. Oh, and 'Song 4 Lovers' was released recently by Liberty X, so that's not mine either
Feedback: I'd appreciate it, believe me
Harry Potter and the Mask of Loki
A few minutes later, Mark, now back in his more traditional leather jacket and the accompanying blue jeans and shirt (Blissfully absent of even the slightest hint of a cleavage; that experience had just been way too disturbing…), was standing on the outskirts of the vast fortress that now comprised Azkaban prison, staring up at it with a rueful expression as he contemplated his next move.
He had to admit, it was surprising how easy it turned out to be to gain access to this place. Of course, he supposed, on reflection, it wasn't exactly surprising; after all, in the past, the prison had most likely depended on the Dementors to keep people out, and with their recent 'defection' over to Voldemort's side, it had thus become significantly easier to reach the island.
The island…
Mark chuckled slightly at the thought of wizards using an island as the location for a prison. It somehow seemed such a… muggle idea, he guessed was the best term to be used.
Some things never change, I guess, he thought to himself, as he stared up at the large building before him. In many ways, the structure of the building reminded him of a prison that he'd seen in a movie he'd watched a couple of weeks ago, back when the Dursleys were out and he'd managed to get access to the television; The Count of Monte Cristo, he believed the movie had been called.
It had been a very impressive story, really, even if he thought that Edmond Dantes could have been a bit less ruthless against his former friends; they may have deserved it, but he still thought that Dantes should have been a bit more human on the whole. A part of him had been particularly fond of the character of Dantes' mentor, Abbe Faria; there had been something about that guy that reminded him of Dumbledore…
Shaking his head, he turned back to the matter at hand. Based on what Dumbledore had told him, Mark had gathered that the prisoners in Azkaban had commonly been delivered by specially-trained aurors, each one an expert at casting a patronus, who drove the dementors away until they were ready for the Azkaban guards to come back. The new prisoner was then transported to an available cell before leaving them to, basically, rot in the cells until they died.
These days, with the Dementors gone having 'defected' over to Voldemort's side, the original security methods for transporting prisoners were relaxed slightly- aurors no longer had to be selected for their ability to summon a patronus- although they still had to be skilled spell casters in case of the prisoners attempted to break away at the last minute. True, the prisoners typically had their wands broken prior to sentencing, but nevertheless, it was still possible for wandless magic to be used in desperate circumstances.
And it was here that Mark Tiller would find the last of Voldemort's five non-animated horcruxes (He generally counted Nagini as something other than a horcrux, given her more… animated nature, for lack of a better term).
Well, Mark thought to himself, as he stared up at the prison, if I'm checking out a place this depressing, there's only one appropriate choice for my costume; the only guy who visited a place that was close to this depressing on a regular basis.
Spinning around once, Mark emerged from his typical green vortex dressed in a long black cloak, a black outfit that resembled a combination of leather and armour, and a black cowl over the head that had two small points on the top that resembled ears, with the mouth and chin of Mark's face the only parts of his body still exposed to the outside world.
Giving himself a brief once-over just to make sure, Mark smiled slightly, nodded in approval at himself, pulled a thin black device that would serve to track the horcrux from out of a pocket in his belt, and walked towards the main prison entrance.
As he approached the large gates, he tapped another small device on his belt and smiled as he felt the magic wash over him; the 'spell' that was activated by the device was a rather elaborate bit of work on the part of the Mask, but it was necessary for him to avoid unwanted confrontations. Thanks to that little trick, any wards that might be set up around the prison to alert the ministry to an escape via the door would not detect Mark's entrance or subsequent exit, and he could pursue the horcrux freely with nobody being the wiser.
As soon as he was inside the walls of Azkaban prison, Mark instantly raised his left hand and clicked his fingers to summon a pair of nose plugs; the smell in this place was unbelievable. Given the age of this place, bathrooms probably hadn't been part of the original construction plans, and, what with the generally… hostile… nature of the prisoners, it was likely that nobody had ever really felt like upgrading the place to be more hygienic.
Growling low in his throat, Mark was briefly tempted to turn a simple search-and-destroy mission into a prison breakout of all the innocent prisoners (Stan Shunpike, for one thing; the man may have been an idiot, but he was still a decent idiot), but he shook the thought off; such an operation would be way too difficult to pull off effectively, even if he knew how many people here were innocent in the first place.
Besides, Mark reminded himself, if I pull this off, the innocent prisoners may soon be allowed out, what with Voldemort being eliminated…
As he scanned his surroundings, Mark was surprised to see that most of the cells in this part of the castle were currently empty; he would have expected that the Ministry would have crammed the whole place full of prisoners in an attempt to make it appear as though they were doing a good job. On reflection, however, he supposed it wasn't surprising; given the recent breakouts, it would only make sense for the prisoners closest to the entrance to have made it out before anyone could show up to stop them, even if the rest of the prisoners had subsequently been caught before they could get very far.
Examining his 'scanner', Mark was pleased to see that the light on the top, which indicated the location of the horcrux in relation to his current position, was starting to blink even more rapidly the further he advanced into the prison; he must be getting close…
Then the light began to flicker less rapidly, and Mark stared at the device in confusion. If he'd been using normal means, he might have blamed a lack of power, but with the Mask, the only source of a 'power drain' would be the sun rising, and it was still only around midnight…
Which left only two options, really. Either he'd passed the horcrux, or it was somewhere above him; he'd forgotten to create a scanner to allow for distance in terms of height as well as just distance.
And, given that there didn't seem to be anything in the cells back when the light had flickered most constantly, that left only up as a direction where the horcrux could be concealed in this place.
Great… Mark mused, as he slid the device back onto his belt and glanced up. He hadn't bothered to take a count of the number of floors this place had on the way in, but it was a lot.
Even with the power the Mask gave him, this wasn't going to be easy…
"Ah well," Mark sighed, as he glanced around his surroundings with a slight sigh. "Let's get started."
Checking his belt once more to make sure everything was ready, Mark began to walk down the corridor, looking all around for something that could be called a staircase.
After examining no less than three different floors, each one failing to turn up anything more than a few startled prisoners at the sight of a green-headed man in a Batman suit, Mark's patience was finally rewarded as the tracker device, once again held out in front of him, emitted a clear, constant light; evidently, the horcrux was on this floor.
Specifically, given that the light seemed more intense when turned in that direction, in the cell on his right.
Peering in through the bars of the cell, Mark's eyes widened in surprise when he saw that the person who was sitting in the cell, clearly sulking at the fate that had befallen him, was none other than…
Lucius Malfoy? Mark thought, as he backed away from the cell slightly to give himself the chance to think about this latest development.
What in the world was he doing with the horcrux? True, the Death Eater in question currently being in prison meant that it would be easy for him to find somewhere secure to hide the horcrux, especially since it was unlikely that anyone would ever look for something so valuable to Voldemort here, but after his mistake with the diary, why would anyone trust him with another horcrux…
Unless he doesn't know he's holding it… Mark mused, clicking his fingers as inspiration struck him. The idea seemed like a long shot, but it certainly made sense. After all, how would anyone be expected to find the fifth horcrux if not even the person who had it knew he possessed the object in question?
And besides, after what happened to the diary when Voldemort entrusted it to a Death Eater who at least had a fair idea of what he possessed, would the Dark Tosser want to risk a similar mistake?
Well, best get down to business, Mark sighed, as he slipped the tracker into his belt, turned to face the door once more, and lashed out with a powerful pick that shattered the lock on the door (Mark made a mental note to replace the lock when he was done here), allowing it to swing open as the ex-Hogwarts governor looked at the figure standing in his door with a harsh expression on his face, suggesting that he still thought he was better than anyone else even though he was currently in prison…
"You are?" he asked as he stood up, glaring at the 'intruder' with as much dignity as a man in his pathetic condition could muster; his hair was dirty and ill-kept while his body looked slightly gaunt, as though the skin was being pulled back over his bones to bring them into greater prominence. A part of Mark wondered how the prisoners even ate in this place- did someone just drop in food every now again- but then he thought of Ginny, and what this bastard had tried to do to her five years ago, and his resolve returned; someone who did something like that could just starve for all he cared.
Several miles away, in a distant fortress, Voldemort looked up as a faint scream echoed through the air that only he could hear, and he sighed.
"The Azkaban container has been targeted, my sweet," he said thoughtfully to Nagini, currently curled around his throne as he sat and pondered a map of Britain before him, planning his next major strike following the death of Albus Dumbledore. "It may be nothing, of course, but caution would be advisable, particularly after those recent… events… around the orphanage and the cave…"
He chuckled slightly as a thought occurred to him.
And, speaking of the cave, that gave him an idea as to who would be the perfect person to dispatch for this little job…
Clicking his fingers, Voldemort smiled in approval as one of the few Death Eaters he retained on a permanent basis (Officially as bodyguards, but unofficially as messengers) stepped up beside him, already unrolling his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. Reaching out with one long, thin, pale finger, Voldemort touched the Dark Mark, his mind fixed on the single Death Eater he wished to summon; this method had taken him time to remaster after he had regained his body, but it was unquestionably worth the effort he had put into learning how to do it in the first place.
Soon, the person who had dared to challenge his power in this manner would fall, at the hands of the man who was rapidly proving to be one of Voldemort's most skilled followers…
This will doubtless be interesting, Voldemort mused to himself, chuckling slightly as he heard the sound of an apparition having just taken place.
He looked forward to learning about his would-be adversary once the assassin had returned from Azkaban…
"They call me Mark, Mr Malfoy," Mark replied, glaring back at Malfoy with just as much authority in his stance as his opponent. He'd briefly thought about introducing himself as 'Batman', but decided it wouldn't really serve much of a point; after all, the green skin below the costume's cowl would make it fairly easy to pick Mark out in a police line-up, no matter what he did…
"And you are here because?" Malfoy retorted, apparently shifting slightly to appear more 'presentable'; he probably thought Mark was here to break him out of prison for some demented reason.
"You've got something I want," Mark replied bluntly. "I came here to get it."
One corner of Lucius Malfoy's mouth turned upwards in a small smirk.
"Really?" he said, looking at Mark as though the new arrival was barking mad. "In case you haven't noticed, I have nothing on me beyond the prison-issue garments; how am I expected to have anything that might be of use to anybody?"
Mark chuckled slightly, making sure to make the 'laugh' suitably chilling; he didn't want to lull Malfoy into a sense of security by demonstrating a relaxed manner. The sooner this guy understood that he meant business and let Mark check him over for the horcrux, the happier everyone would be, he was sure.
"Oh, you've got what I'm looking for all right; you just don't know you've got it," Mark replied, as he folded his arms and leaned back slightly against the cell walls, for all the world looking as though he was just having a casual chat with a friend about a relatively trivial matter. "Now then, if we can do this the easy way-"
Malfoy lunged out at Mark, one hand curled into a punch aimed directly at Mark's nose…
And Mark, aided in no small part by the heightened reflexes of his current appearance, neatly sidestepped the punch and lashed out with a backhand blow that struck Malfoy's cheek with the 'spikes' (Or whatever they were called) on his gauntlet, leaving faint scars. As Malfoy screamed in rage and pain, Mark quickly spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick to the back of Malfoy's head, knocking the Death Eater unconscious as he landed squarely in Mark's arms (Mark having spun around into a position where he could catch Malfoy; he didn't want his opponent to be too badly injured…)
Dumping his unconscious foe back on the cell's single bed, Mark pulled another scanner out of his belt- this one better equipped for scanning for the horcrux when he was up close to the object in question. It vaguely resembled one of Dudley's old Game Boys- the one he'd received first, and subsequently broken when the Game Boy Colour came out- except that the screen showed a basic diagram of Mark's immediate surroundings, and it only had an 'On/Off' switch; the horcrux energies were already 'in' the device after all the time Mark had spent scrying with the remains of the others.
Checking the device, Mark smiled as he noticed the simple diagram of the cell around him…
And then frowned.
That was odd.
According to the tracker, the horcrux was located…
Inside Malfoy's mouth?
"What the…?" Mark said to himself, as he turned to look at Malfoy in confusion. He glanced down at the scanner again, just in case he'd made a mistake, but no; the red light that indicated the horcrux was still blinking away merrily on the part of the screen that showed the diagram of Lucius Malfoy's unconscious body, on the left side of his head around the lower jaw.
This doesn't make any sense… Mark thought to himself, as he stared at the scanner in confusion.
Then he clicked his fingers as inspiration struck.
Of course; I'm an idiot! he mentally berated himself.
After all, hiding places were all well and good, but sooner or later even the best hiding place could be discovered, right? Even without the Mask, Harry would probably have found the horcruxes eventually; it simply would have taken longer than it had taken him with the Norse artefact in question. Therefore, with that reasoning in mind, what better place to conceal the horcrux, than on the person of a Death Eater, totally ignorant of what he was carrying, and in a location where nobody would ever look for something like this…
Specifically, inside his mouth; most likely in the form of a tooth.
Reaching up to tap the cowl covering his head, Mark smiled as a thin pair of lenses slid over his eyes. Leaning down, he prised over Malfoy's mouth and quickly looked at the teeth in question, the lenses instantly picking up the odd one out; the lower left molar, throbbing with power that gave off a distinct energy signature.
Voldemort's energy signature.
Mark didn't waste any time; reaching into Malfoy's mouth, he took hold of the tooth with two fingers, tried not to think about just how disgusting what he was doing was, and yanked it out of the Death Eater's mouth. Malfoy's mouth twitched slightly as Mark released his grip on the jaw, but either the pain was relatively minor or he was more unconscious than Mark had originally thought; the would-be Minister of Magic (Mark was always certain that Malfoy had been aiming for that position before he lost his job as a Hogwarts governor and his career began its slipperly slope downhill) didn't even open one eye.
Shrugging, Mark tossed the tooth into the air, spun around as it began to fall, and, by the time he caught it, he was back in his traditional leather and denim.
Nodding briefly at Malfoy, he walked out of the cell (Taking a few moments to whip up a new lock for the cell door) and then quickly began to walk back towards the stairs that led down to the bottom of Azkaban prison.
A few minutes later, Mark was standing outside the wizard prison, staring around at his surroundings and taking deep gulps of the fresh air that was now available to him once again…
God, that place reeked! he thought to himself. If I ever needed an excuse not to go there, the smell is more than enough!
Then he shook his head and turned back to the 'tooth' in his hand. He knew he should just shatter the thing, of course, but he wanted to see just what he'd been forced to come here to get first…
Fortunately, that bit was easy enough; remembering a few magic tricks he'd seen on TV (Back when he'd managed to get one on his own, of course; the Dursleys wouldn't have let him near the television willingly), he just passed his hand over the tooth, and smiled as a long blue-and-gold quill appeared in place of the tooth.
"Must have belonged to Ravenclaw…" he mused to himself, taking the quill in the other had as he held it up against the sun to study it more closely.
He sighed slightly as he stared at it.
It was a beautiful thing…
But it had to go if Voldemort was going to do the same.
Laying it down on the ground in front of him, Mark stepped back, reached into his pocket, pulled out a massive flamethrower, aimed it at the quill before him…
And then he… sensed, for lack of a better term… a brief rush of magic, and suddenly someone was standing behind him.
"STOP!" the someone yelled, and Mark's face suddenly split into a grin.
It was Snape.
It was official; he was really going to enjoy the next few minutes…