Note: And once again, Kimmeth disappears off the face of the Earth for a while. I wanted to put this up with the next chapter as they belong together but the next chapter's proving nightmarish to write so it's here on its own. Added to that, I had exams, the start of uni term and lots of other stressful things taking up my time, not to mention George Smiley invading my head. Enough of my excuses, onwards!

Note2: Not only am I in foreign territory (Voldemort's mind… I suggest you all bathe in disinfectant afterwards, I certainly had to), I am also in foreign theory – horcrux theory to be precise. Needless to say, I have taken quite a few liberties but I hope you enjoy none-the-less. I got the information on precisely when Voldemort created his horcruxes from a JKR interview transcript on the HP Lexicon.

Chapter Forty-Seven

The Last Bastion

If Voldemort's thoughts had wended in that direction, then he would have been feeling a great satisfaction in the power that he now held over the wizarding world, a power that was so strong that his mere invisible presence was enough to cause allies, enemies and the wholly neutral to cower as he passed through the halls of the Ministry. These fear-struck witches and wizards were not aware that it was he whom they had crossed paths with, only that there was something in the Ministry that was extremely powerful and had no reservations when it came to using that might. Those who had worked within its subterranean corridors for many years and who continued to do so under the new administration could guess that it was him, the one who now controlled all of their lives like a puppeteer, and they shuddered accordingly.

Voldemort's thoughts were not, however, concerned with the reactions of mere mortals as he strode towards his destination. Normally he would have saved himself the trouble and apparated directly into the Minister's office, but today, it was the very subject of his concentrated thoughts that had caused him to wish for a slightly longer journey in order to mull recent events over. The glamour of concealment that had caused this strange wave of terror throughout the Ministry to have no visible source was not through any desire for self-protection on the part of the Dark Lord, far from it. It merely added to his forbidding influence, the fact that he was the man behind the Ministry, he was the man behind everything, and yet his face was never seen within the institution. He worked through proxies, and as such his power was all the greater as people continued to shake at the mere mention of his name. But even this was not the subject occupying Voldemort's mind.

The Dark Lord would never admit to fear or worry, or any other feeling or emotion that could possibly be misconstrued as a weakness. Moreover, to the Dark Lord, all feelings and emotions were a sign of weakness, being linked inextricably as they were with the human and mortal state, in its nature weak. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the Master of Death, was above such traits. Nonetheless, the Dark Lord was feeling a distinct degree of unease, for if he was not careful, his own state might return to that of mortality before long. His horcruxes were under threat, this much was now clear. Of the six that he had originally created, but one remained, the ever-faithful Nagini, whose smooth body undulated along the floor in his wake, her form unseen but her unnerving hiss not unheard. At least he knew that it would be harder for any potential assassin to destroy his devoted pet; he rarely let her leave his side now. He was considering carefully the possible merits and drawbacks to restarting his collection, to creating new horcruxes, just to be sure. He was not in the habit of second-guessing himself, every decision he made was final, except this one. This one created a definite dilemma.

On the one hand, there was nothing physically preventing him from creating five new horcruxes and regaining the immense advantage that he had held over his enemies for so long. It was only the logistics that made him think twice about doing so. The first time around, his quest had taken him a good fifty years to come to full fruition, indeed his physical body had been destroyed once before he had completed his set. This time, he would not be able to be so selective in his choice of holding vessel. But he could not use simply anything he had to hand; that was the mark of a desperate man, and the Dark Lord was never desperate. Storing these miniatures of his soul would also prove to be difficult; none of his previous hiding places could be used by dint of their already having been discovered, and it had taken enough time and effort to conceal the first horcruxes.

A third practical issue was the time it took, time that Voldemort could ill afford to waste. Creating the horcruxes weakened him physically, however temporary his recovery time, and the effects seemed to have become more acute as the number of rips in his soul increased. He knew that at this delicate stage, he could not waste this precious time, nor could he appear to be incapacitated in front of followers and enemies alike. His foes might take that opportunity to strike, and his Death Eaters might lose the nervous revere in which they held him. The Dark Lord bristled uncharacteristically; he could feel his followers' impatience, waiting for something to happen, and if he did not act soon he would be faced with the beginnings of an insubordination. Such an occurrence would be, of course, easily dealt with should it arise, but initiating new members into his force to replace the ones he had been forced to dispense with was a tiresome process. Far better to continue with the select corps he already had.

Voldemort turned his attention back to the pressing question of horcruxes. Finally, he had to consider the state of the soul itself. He could not help but remember his conversations with Slughorn on the subject, and his teacher warning him of the evils of splitting one's soul with murder and intent to live forever. He had warned of the instability of a fractured soul. Now split seven ways, with countless more ruptures from the many more deaths at his wand, he knew what he was risking should he continue to remove it piecemeal from his body. There would be no glory in his being destroyed by the very thing that was meant to enable his immortality.

The finer points of the situation having been presented thus, the Dark Lord came to a logical conclusion. It would be imprudent at this stage to create more horcruxes; Nagini should serve him well through to his victory, a victory that he could feel to be close at hand. All that was left before he could assume his place at the pinnacle of his new, pure society was the destruction of that last bastion of hope – Hogwarts. It was for this reason that he had come to the Ministry today, to set in motion the fall of that final noble institution. The final bone of the spine.

Voldemort reached his destination and apparated into the Minister's office to avoid betraying his presence by opening the door. Pius was sat at his desk ignoring the meaningless paperwork stacked up in front of him and focussing his attention on the shapely rear of his secretary, who was filing in the corner. A brief glimpse into the man's mind told him that he was on the verge of going over and grabbing that same rear when Nagini gave a particularly loud hiss and both Pius and the object of his lust jumped. The Minister, recognising this as his master's calling card, hastily dismissed the young woman and attempted to look extremely busy. The Dark Lord lifted his spell and was pleased to note that the other man still jumped.

"My Lord, I didn't realise you were here."

"Pius, contrary to your opinion of what the esteemed position of Minister entails in its day to day duties, I did not instate you in this high rank to slaver over the opposite sex. I do expect the Ministry to be run with some semblance of order in my absence."

"Of course, my Lord, I was…"

"Enough." Voldemort held up a bony hand to cut off the Minister's suitably pathetic excuse for an excuse and continued to speak, moving around the room as he did so. He often did this; it kept the subject that he was addressing on edge, never quite knowing where his eyes should be directed in order to try and keep the very dangerous and volatile presence in sight for as long as possible. "It has come to my attention that whilst our plans have been progressing at a steady pace, the time has come for us to begin the end. As you know, the Ministry is now comfortable in its new administration and we have made inroads into the dire state that its previous government had left it in…"

The Dark Lord broke off on realising that Pius was not paying any attention to him; his eyes were unfocussed upon the middle distance and his thoughts were completely jumbled and incoherent. He sighed heavily and raised his wand.

"Imperio."

Suddenly Pius was back in the room with them, alert, afraid, and whole-heartedly believing that the master stalking his office was the one that he had always served. The Dark Lord remembered selecting the ex-head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to be Rufus Scrimgeour's successor; naturally it had been necessary that the new Minister have some vague air of respectability about him. They did not want the public to panic unduly. Pius's mind was so very simple and linear, and the spell that he was under was one of the most complex that Voldemort had ever cast, aside from those that melded his horcruxes. It did, however, require the occasional bolstering, normally after Pius's original personality traits had been allowed to bleed through for too long, namely those involving women. The Dark Lord made a mental note to fire Pius's current secretary and replace her with one that was either hideously ugly, a man, or both. He continued to outline his plan to the Minister.

"As I was saying, the Ministry is under control, Azkaban has long since been under control, and now the time has come for us to press on and continue to the last obstacle that remains in our path to greatness. We shall require the Ministerial Committee for Re-Education; I know that Dolores Umbridge has been feeling increasingly frustrated at how little she has had to do recently."

"Of course, my Lord." Obediently, Pius called through to his secretary. "Gwenda, I need to the see the head of the Re-Education Committee immediately!"

A moment later, there was a knock at the door; naturally it was not possible for Umbridge to have arrived that quickly and Voldemort took a small degree of pleasure in seeing the look of surprise etch itself onto Pius's face.

"Enter?" he called nervously. The person wishing admittance opened the door but the Minister's unease did not lessen as three figures, none of whom were the head of the Re-Education Committee, came into the room.

"You said that you would require our presence here, my Lord," said Yaxley smoothly, ignoring Pius and awaiting the reply of his ultimate master. The Carrow siblings merely looked around the room, visibly wondering which of the many ornaments belonging to its occupier could be spirited away and made a tidy profit of.

"I did indeed, Yaxley," said the Dark Lord. "As you know, Hogwarts School has been left relatively untouched in the wake of our many reforms and improvements here at the Ministry, and I believe that the time has come for this to change. Its autonomy is becoming dangerous to our cause. Who knows what sort of rebellion might be being instructed as we speak? I therefore believe it necessary for you to undertake a little investigation."

"What about Snape, my Lord?" asked Yaxley. Voldmort knew that this remark was not made out of any sort of concern or respect for his colleague; far from it, Yaxley and Snape were bitter rivals and any opportunity for one-upmanship was most certainly taken full advantage of by the former at least. Severus had always been too sensible and independent to sink to such levels, qualities that made him both an excellent spy and, conversely, an excellent would-be traitor. He smiled to himself; Yaxley had been wishing to regain some of the prestige that he had lost to his comrade ever since the previous August.

"Snape cannot, unfortunately, tell me everything that I wish to know about the workings of the castle," said Voldemort carefully. "He has been more reticent than usual of late and I suspect that he has allowed his working relationship with Minerva McGonagall and the rest of the staff to decline. Perhaps it would be worth your while reminding him of his duties whilst you are visiting." He addressed the gathered Death Eaters as a group, politely ignoring the man whose office he had commandeered for this meeting.

"Your task is simple. I merely wish you to gain entry to Hogwarts and gather proof that there is conspiracy against the Ministry. The task should not be too hard, after all, if someone as dim-witted as Fudge could be convinced of it two years ago then people with slightly more brain…" Here he looked at the Carrows pointedly. "… should be able to find something of incriminating value."

"And if there isn't anything, my Lord?" asked Alecto.

"There will be something," reassured the Dark Lord. "It need only be the merest proof, and no-one would question the genuineness of ministerial proof."

Yaxley smiled wolfishly; at least one of them had caught the meaning.

"It will of course be necessary to take Madame Umbridge with you as a respectable front, at the very least she can distract the headmistress with legalities and paperwork lest the esteemed professor smell a proverbial rat."

There was a second knock at the door; this would inevitably be the fourth member of their party come to answer her summons. Pius opened his mouth to invite her in but Voldemort held up a hand to stop him.

"Once the proof is acquired then the Ministry can move in, close down, and disperse. United they stand, divided they face annihilation, and the sweetest part of our victory will come from the simplicity of their defeat. I do not see the school, in its already broken state, as a valuable foe to warrant a full-scale attack, besides, they are likely to come together in the face of adversity and prove stronger than we expect. No, a quiet mutilation is the best way forward, and there will be nothing that the professors can do to stop it."

He paused to contemplate his words for a moment, then, satisfied that he had said all that needed to be said, he lowered his hand to allow Pius to speak and vanished.

Umbridge entered the room and Pius, as mentally instructed, began to explain what was required of her in this little outing.

The Dark Lord disapparated. The fall was so close that he could almost taste it, and it would only be a matter of time before Hogwarts had vanished and he would have single-handedly succeeded in breaking society's back. Then, and only then, could his perfect world begin to take shape.

Note3: Eech. *Reaches for the mind-bleach.* Nah, I'm exaggerating. That was one of the most interesting writing experiences I have ever had. No kidding.