AN: I was surprised at how many of you told me off (completely understandable) for using my phone while riding a bicycle lol. Don't worry though, there's no danger for me or others. Currently, I'm in the Netherlands and the small town I live in has bicycle lanes virtually everywhere. Most of the time, the bicycle lanes are also separated from the main road on which cars drive. I am not using my phone during the sections where the bicycle lanes and the main road converge. Plus, it's a small town, no crazy traffic. Still, thank you for your concern ^^

Anyway. Here is the next chapter, enjoy!

Chapter 32 - Thief's Downfall

The Easter holiday passed and the school week after it was at the end too. It was Saturday. Unlike usual, Bellatrix did not host the Duelling Club. A bit more than a week after the conversation she had had with her boss, Mr Croaker, he gave her the green light to visit the Ministry again, which meant that he had finished his research on the Thief's Downfall. So excited she had been by the prospect of seeing for herself the enchantments that the Goblins had cast that she forgot about everything else for the moment. The Duelling Club was postponed for the next week.

Even so, it was not like Harry had the entire afternoon off. That evening, wearing quality dress robes and dress shoes, he knocked on the door of the Potions Professor's Office. A few moments later, the wooden door opened wide to accommodate the width of a short but burly old man.

"Good evening, Professor!"

"Harry Potter, my boy, just in time! Come in, come in!" Professor Slughorn greeted him warmly as he ushered him in. The old wizard looked different than usual too, wearing classy emerald robes and a tasselled dark red hat.

As he stepped into the office, Harry was reminded of the Christmas Party held by Slughorn in his past life. His memory of it was rather blurry after more than two decades but he could still vividly recall some things - things like Slughorn's funny looking hat, the fact that the office had been charmed with Expansion Charms to be larger, Luna Lovegood's surprisingly nice appearance in her silvery robes as he accompanied him to the party etc. Nevertheless, this time around it was not Christmas - it was spring, one week after the Easter holiday, he was much younger physically, and he had no date with him either.

"Where is Miss Delacour? The two of you are usually inseparable," Slughorn asked when he noticed that the beautiful witch was nowhere to be seen.

It became something normal in the eyes of others for the two of them to be seen together. Harry and Fleur always sat together at lunch, they went together to the Duelling Club and the Slug Club, and sometimes Fleur would even accompany him to his sessions of Quidditch practice with the Ravenclaw team, watching his shenanigans on the broom.

"Professor Flitwick has become more demanding of her as of late. Since Fleur has her OWLs this year he increased her workload by a lot. I think he wants to make sure she aces them, something about his apprentice having the obligation to be the number one," Harry said as he followed Slughorn to a round table to the side of the enlarged office room.

After he took a seat at the table, he looked around the room curiously. There was a stage at the front of the room with a grand piano and a middle-aged man dressed in a tuxedo was playing a slow and relaxing song, a jazz piece. It made the atmosphere completely different from the Christmas Party he remembered from his past life.

Apart from the stage at the front, about a dozen other round tables were spread evenly through the office, with most of the seats occupied by various remarkable students or distinguished guests from outside the school. People were talking in low voices, having pleasant conversations with each other.

'Not bad. Actually not bad,' Harry thought when he saw the relaxing and feel-good vibe of the party.

"Ah, yes, Filius may seem like an amiable man but he's a perfectionist. He demands nothing but the absolute best from his apprentices. That's why he hasn't taken more than three or four apprentices during his entire career as a professor at Hogwarts. He has high standards. Ms Delacour has her work cut out for her. What is she studying currently?"

"Last time I checked, she told me that they've already covered all the 5th year curriculum. She's started working on advanced animation charms," Harry said.

"Ouch. That's sound like a pain," someone said from the side. It was a tall but thin man in his late thirties with short brown hair and brown eyes. Rather average in terms of looks but his smart attire and square glasses gave him the look of an intellectual.

"Harry, this is Owen Brook. He is the Manager of the U17 Puddlemore United team. Mr Brook, this is Harry Potter. One of the most brilliant students I've ever had the pleasure to teach in my entire career. Those animation charms we were talking about should be nothing difficult for him in two or three years."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Brook," said Harry.

"Likewise," Mr Brook responded and the two of them shook hands.

Just as Mr Brook took a seat at their table, a new guest happened to arrive. It looked like it was an important person too seeing as Professor Slughorn jolted up from his seat to greet them as if there were springs under his feet.

"I'll let the two of you get to know each other better," Slughorn said and excused himself before going to greet the newcomer.

Both Harry and Mr Brook coincidentally shook their heads at the same time and smiled slightly at his antics before they realized what they were doing and started chuckling.

"Hohoho!" came Slughorn particular laughter from the distance. "Neville, my boy, I was starting to think you wouldn't show up tonight!"

"You know that I wouldn't miss any of your parties for anything in the world, Professor," the boy in question said which in turn made the old wizard laugh boisterously again.

"The Boy Who Lived, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. There was no way Slughorn would miss out on the chance to poach someone like him," Mr Brook said with a laugh. "It can't be denied that he has an eye for people though. More often than not, the ones that he sets his eyes on end up becoming important or successful people later on."

"Were you one of his favourite students too during your time at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I was. But enough about me. Today, I'm here for you. So tell me more about you. Specifically, why do you want to become a pro-Quidditch player when, from what I've heard from Slughorn, you appear to be the second coming of Dumbledore."

Harry chuckled a bit at his choice of words. That saying did seem to go around, especially with his newfound popularity during the past few months due to him being revealed in the papers as a Parselmouth and due to him and Bellatrix having escaped unscathed from the assassination attempt on their persons in Diagon Alley.

'Slughorn cashed in one of his favours just so he could introduce me to Puddlemore United... I ought to show my appreciation for him more often from now on.' he thought, moved that Slughorn would go to such lengths for him. He was clear on the fact that the Manager of a famous team like Puddlemore United, even if it was not of the main team, would never come personally just to scout a 12 year-old-boy.

"Have you ever seen me on a broom, Mr Brook?"

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," the older man said.

Sensing his mood by reading his facial expression - something that he had become an expert at with the passing of years - Harry said:

"Let's say it was enough to even convince aunt Bellatrix that I'm made for this."

Mr Brook just hmmed, not committed to giving a verbal reply to what he said.

"Bellatrix Black? The hero who saved the Boy Who Lived's family? Come to think of it, she was teaching at Hogwarts!" Mr Brook said with a look of realization on his face.

"She's not at the school at the moment. She's at the Ministry of Magic, some new research project caught her eye recently."

The two made small talk for another few minutes before Mr Brook said:

"Look, I'll be honest with you: I came here today mostly because of Professor Slughorn's invitation. You are too young to be playing for an official club at the moment, even if it's for the U17 team."

"I understand," Harry said, having expected his answer from the beginning. He knew very well that it would not be easy at all for anyone to get into a Quidditch club as successful Puddlemore United. Otherwise, Bellatrix would not refer to his goal of becoming a professional Quidditch player as a "waste of time". This time around, he was not as 'special' as in his past life, when he had been the Boy Who Lived. There were no backdoors for him. The fact that Slughorn introduced him to the Manager of an official team could already be considered as cutting in line when compared to regular people who aspired at a career in Quidditch.

"You do?" Mr Brook asked surprised. Seeing his age, he had expected the boy to show disappointment or worse, even starting crying at the rejection.

"Well, it's true, I'm still only 12. You haven't seen me playing either so you don't really have a reason to recruit me either. Professor Slughorn's word is not enough for that."

The older wizard became momentarily silent.

"You keep saying I've never seen you fly. Are you that confident?"

"There is no-one at Hogwarts that can outfly me," Harry said categorically. "Ask any student in this room and they will confirm my words.

Mr Brook did a double-take at his words, his interest spiked this time around. Boasting was one thing but confidence that could be backed by witnesses was a different matter altogether.

"Well then, how about we put that to test? What's your position?"

Harry perked up at his words but asked: "Seeker. But you want to test me now? It's already dark outside."

"Oh, you don't need to show me how you catch the snitch now. I just want to see you fly. I am giving you a chance to impress me." Mr Brook said bluntly.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a smile.

When man and child stood up from their seats, intent on informing Slughorn about leaving the party momentarily, a blood-curdling scream deeply startled everyone in the room. Quite frightened, they turned to look towards the direction of the scream wide-eyed and the pianist stopped playing the piano too.

Next to the round table positioned in the middle of the office, a pudgy-looking boy was kneeling on the floor and screaming in agony as he clutched with both of his hands at the scar in the middle of his forehead. Harry recognized right away what was going on because he had experienced that terrible feeling in his past life more times than he could count. At that moment, Neville Longbottom was having a vision, he was seeing and experiencing things through the Dark Lord's eyes. And by the looks of it, Voldemort did not seem to be happy. Not one bit.

⁂

When he had sent a squad of 10 Death Eaters he had thought that sending so many wands to assassinate one witch was overkill. Never had he expected them to get absolutely obliterated and their target to come out of it without as much as a scratch on her.

"Incompetent imbeciles."

His next course of action had been to cast the Imperius Curse on the chief Unspeakable and use him to kill Bellatrix. But, somehow, the old wizard managed to break his control over him.

Currently, Voldemort was in a dilemma. His second coming to power was not as he had expected. First of all, more than 90% of his inner circle of Death Eaters had been murdered by someone - according to his contacts in the Ministry, by a serial killer.

Secondly, the release of Bellatrix Black's research on Magic Ancestry had started a silent revolution across entire Europe. There were no massive movements yet but turbulent undercurrents could be felt in most countries. The radical purebloods were starting to lose their footing politically and people were beginning to become vocal about the veiled discrimination against Muggleborns.

The loss of his most trusted and most important Death Eaters and the ideology born from Bellatrix's research regarding Magic Ancestry had thrown a big wrench in his plans. Voldemort was not even sure how to proceed from there on because his entire strategy until then had been based on the pureblood's thirst for power.

"In the end, it's always been like this. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

Saying those words, Voldemort poured the steaming potion from the small cauldron in front of him into a goblet and then downed it in one go. He grimaced at the taste but soon, the aftertaste of the potion left his mind when a feeling of itchiness and pain came from all over his body. His height decreased by a few inches, his hair became grizzled, his red eyes turned brown and his pale, and handsome face morphed into the tanned, wrinkled face of an old man. What he drank was a Polyjuice Potion.

⁂

"Disgusting."

The old man that uttered those words under his breath scrunched up his nose at the sight of the subway Muggle bathroom which also happened to be the entrance of the Ministry of Magic.

'The lengths to which we have to go to in order to hide from Muggles...the rabble that should be nothing but our slaves.'

Silent rage bubbled in his veins at that thought.

'At least Black's research on Magic Ancestry proved something I've always suspected: that magic cannot come from Muggles.'

As months passed by, it turned out that Bellatrix's research on Magic Ancestry was a double-edged sword. On one hand, a nationwide movement of becoming more accepting of Muggleborn wizards and witches had begun. But on the other hand, the results of that research also solidified the Wizarding World's belief that they were superior to Muggles. Cases of Muggle baiting among the general population were on the rise; it was not a drastic increase but they were starting to happen a bit more often than before.

'To have the courage to make such a controversial research public is rather admirable.' Voldemort thought. However, his admiration towards Bellatrix's backbone did not interfere with his desire to kill her. 'Her research and that serial killer have delayed my plans by years. They need to die.'

The Dark Lord was aware of his limitations. Without powerful and influential followers, he could never hope to conquer an entire country, to speak nothing of ruling the world or abolishing the Statute of Secrecy. Furthermore, his means of getting new followers had been being jeopardized by the Magic Ancestry research since purebloods lost much of their exalted status in the months following its publication.

While bearing those vengeful thoughts in mind, the Dark Lord who currently had the appearance of an old and overworked office employee waited patiently in line to enter the toilet cab. Soon enough, it was his turn. He climbed with his feet on the toilet seat and, with one final look of disgust, he flushed the toilet.

⁂

Seeing as it was Saturday, in the afternoon, the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic was not crowded. When a fireplace was lit up in emerald flames, he attracted quite a few curious looks. Wanting to stay in character with the person whose appearance he had stolen, The Dark Lord was about to nod his head at them as a form of greeting before going on his way when an ear-deafening alarm started blaring.

He was taken aback. His surprise only increased when, only three seconds later, four more fireplaces were lit up by green flames as three wizards and one witch Flooed into Atrium.

"Freeze!" the oldest among the newly-arrived wizards shouted, the tip of his wand speaking with red light as he aimed at him.

It was then that the Dark Lord also finally took note of his changed appearance. Somehow, the effect of the Polyjuice Potion that he had drunk only 15 minutes ago had worn off!

'How in the world...?'

"Mr Croaker, careful!" the only woman among the newly arrived wizards exclaimed, her wand also pointed at the Dark Lord. "No matter what, don't underestimate him!"

One surprise kept popping up after another. Even someone as composed and confident as Voldemort was momentarily thrown off. Still, he recollected himself quickly and focused his attention on the only woman among the group that surrounded him.

"At last! Bellatrix Black, you're a difficult witch to find."

"Who are you, bastard? For what reason have you come in disguise to the Ministry of Magic?" Mr Croaker shouted, angry at being blatantly ignored by the middle-aged man.

Voldemort turned his attention back to the old wizards and said lightly:

"I will tell you my name and my purpose only if you answer one of my questions too. How was my Polyjuice Potion cancelled?"

"Oh, I'll tell you. I'll tell you this:" Mr Croaker said, his voice quivering towards the end and a sickly yellowish beam of light shot from his wand.

Wearing a look of surprise on his face at the old wizard's choice of spell, the Dark Lord had no choice but to duck under the curse and then use his wand to block the other three jets of light coming from the rest of his opponents who had started to throw spells at him too.

The bystanders in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic started running away scared when their confrontation had all of a sudden turned into an all-out 4 vs 1 battle. However, despite that four rather skilled wand users were ganging up on just one wizard, the man in question appeared to not be affected by the numerical disadvantage.

A deflected beam of light smashed against one of the many fireplaces in the Atrium and reduced it to rubble. Another deflected spell took out a good chunk of the centaur statue's shoulder. Then another one destroyed the Goblin statue completely.

"Disappointing," Voldemort drawled. "I wanted to see what exactly allowed you to overcome the 10 assassins that tried to kill you last year. I wanted to see what Bellatrix Black had to offer. I am not impressed."

Bellatrix's grip on the handle of her wand tightened but she kept her composure.

"Exercise caution," she said quietly to her fellow Unspeakables. "No matter what, don't let yourself goaded by his words. Don't let your guard down. The Aurors should be here in a few moments," she said and her three coworkers, people that have known her for years or even decades, looked at her as if she had grown two heads. But they heeded her words, not attacking wildly, focusing instead more on just harassing the intruder with their spells, on not giving him the chance to take a breather or make any suspect moves. If someone with such an impulsive temper and someone as good with a wand as Bellatrix was acting so cautiously, they had all the more reason to be careful too.

Voldemort's red-tinted eyes seemed to flash sinisterly when he heard her words.

"By the time they come, you shall be dead! Avada Kedavra!"

Firing that Killing Curse was a sign that he was done playing around with his prey. He went for the kill.

Suddenly, a flock of canary birds were summoned from Bellatrix's wand, the Killing Curse doing no harm other than killing one bird. It was not only her three coworkers that were stupefied at the banal way in which she stopped the terrible curse but even Voldemort had not seen it coming.

When the surviving birds were redirected to attack him, Voldemort let out a low shout and swished his wand in front of him as if it was a whip.

It must have been an overpowered Banishing Charm because not only were the birds smashed into a gory paste but everything in front of him was hurled back through the air too as if hit by a truck. His spell even broke through the Shielding Charms cast by two Unspeakables and they were blasted away like broken kites too.

"Jim! Sean!" Mr Croaker shouted in a hoarse voice when he saw his two coworkers getting slammed into the wall towards the back of the Atrium and not getting up on their feet anymore. When he also saw blood pooling on the marble floor, the Head of the Department of Mysteries started throwing the deadliest curses in his arsenal with wild abandon.

"Calm down! Calm down or you'll get killed just like them too!" Bellatrix yelled at him.

Saul Croaker's response was to shout:

"Fiendfyre!"

For the first time since the start of the duel, Voldemort took the fight seriously. In some aspects, Fiendfyre was an even harder curse to defend against than the Killing Curse. Shielding Charms could not stop it and a conjured animal or object would do nothing against it either.

"Aqua Regia!"

Instead of going for a spell that would obstruct the cursed flames, Voldemort chose another option. Acidic water burst from the tip of his wand and, instead of dousing the serpent of fire...it exploded, feeding it.

A shout of panic came from Mr Croaker when he lost control over his Fiendfyre spell. At the contact with the acidic water, the flaming serpent roared and it grew larger, much larger than before.

"Partis Temporum!" Bellatrix shouted, saying the incantation out loud to give her spell more power.

The flaming serpent was split into two halves as if chopped by an invisible axe. However, in the blink of an eye, it reformed and then lunged at the one that attacked it.

Bellatrix and Croaker broke into a mad run as they tried to escape from the enormous serpent of fire behind them. As it chased them, the demonic fire continued to increase in proportions as it devoured anything in its passing, leaving only ashes in its wake.

"Avada Kedavra!" a voice could vaguely be heard amidst the roaring inferno.

Bellatrix looked in disbelief how Saul Croaker, her boss for nearly 20 years, a man she deeply respected and one of her only friends, collapsed on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Noo!"

A large tendril of fire split from the main body of the cursed flames and launched itself a Voldemort but with a mere swish of his wand, they were erased from existence, Vanished. Much to Bellatrix's luck, the cursed fire momentarily stopped chasing her as it concentrated on destroying the being that posed more of a threat to it. Even then, she was not given much time as the fire kept expanding in size the more things it consumed and then resumed its chase of her too. Soon enough, Saul Croaker's corpse was reduced to ashes too when the fiendish flames engulfed it.

Bellatrix ran with all her might but it looked like she would not make it in time. She could not outrun the demonic flames. Turning around, she glared defiantly at the fire that took on the appearance of a horde of various deadly beasts and pointed her wand at it as she shouted:

"Diaboli Evanesco!"

It was the only spell that could suppress the cursed flames of the Fiendfyre spell.

Maybe it was her desperation that allowed her to surpass her limits or maybe it was because the demonic flames were not solely focused on her but on Voldemort as well, but a large chunk of the flames was Vanished and she got a brief respite. Shocked but also overjoyed at the unexpected rise in her chances of surviving through the ordeal, Bellatrix did not dally. She ran towards one of the still working fireplaces in the back of the Atrium as if her life depend on it.

"You won't get away from me, Black!" Voldemort screamed in rage, not having predicted that she would be able to Vanish such a large portion of the cursed flames.

Two Killing Curses whirred past her head one after another, with one of them missing her by no more than two inches. With her heart beating as if to jump out of her chest, Bellatrix threw herself into the fireplace with a yell:

"The Blackthorn!"

The green flames of the Floo system engulfed her and she disappeared just a second before another Killing Curse obliterated the entire fireplace.

AN: Just in case someone is confused in regards to why was Voldemort's Polyjuice Potion cancelled, it's because of the Thief's Downfall (which is canon). Having finished his research on the enchanted water, Mr Croaker cast the same enchantments on the system of toilets used by the Ministry of Magic's employees to get to the Ministry. His trap worked perfectly but unfortunately, the fish he caught in his net was too big for him.