So, thanks to my amazing reviewers who did a great job convincing me to post this chapter earlier, here it is, one day in advance!
This is the last chapter of the plot, but I will post an epilogue in a few days. There won't be a sequel, but I might do a few outtakes if you ask me for specific events about which you want to read.
To my guest reviewer: Luc: I'm sorry, but it didn't fit with the plot and I personally think that it would lower the general quality of the fic if I added a few chapter full of fluff. If you ask for some fluffy mushy with a specific context though (within of what our dear Dark Lord could manage, of course), I could write an outtake about it if you want ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 54 : 3rd of April 1998, Victory Day part four
Severus refrained yet again from sighing in exasperation. In front of him, young Luna Lovegood was bouncing around and chatting with some invisible creatures while checking some broken windows and turning seemingly aimlessly in the labyrinth of alleys surrounding the Ministry building. She had been at it for about ten minutes now, but she did not seem worried that the elusive door would escape her notice. As it was, he did not have much choice in waiting for her to work her strangely intuitive magic because his own search had not amounted to much. And he could say the same of the other students that he had very reluctantly allowed to accompany them.
Just an hour ago, his day had taken a turn for the worse when Lucius had firecalled him to ask him if Draco was still at Hogwarts. A customary search had revealed that his godson was indeed missing and had in fact never showed up for his daily detention. He was about to go interrogate Ronald Weasley, who had also skived off his detention, when miss Macmillan, the idiotic boy in question and young miss Weasley had turned up in his office. Upon hearing miss Macmillan's grave accusation of an older woman bewitching one of his student and forcing him to contribute to a scheme against the power in place, he had briefly investigated the boy's mind and found her unfortunately right. His attempts to reach the Dark Lord, Lucius or even the Lestranges were not fruitful and he met a brick wall when he tried to contact the Ministry as a last resort. A closer look at mister Weasley's muddled memories showed him that the Ministry was where Draco had been brought. If they had lost the Ministry, it was a very dangerous situation indeed and he was afraid that the Dark Lord would not want to jeopardise the process of taking it back because of Draco's presence. Severus was all too conscious of his Master's disdain for his godson and although he usually felt relived of this fact, now it worried him. It meant that it was up to him to save his godson and that he would have to operate without the support of the Death Eaters. Which explained why his companions at the moment were his students. He had not planned to bring miss Lovegood with him, as she was not considered an adult yet (and neither was miss Weasley, for that matter, but that family just did not have the political clout to sue him for allowing her involvement), but Lovegood had pointed out that her father had uncovered a secret way to get in the Ministry from old emergency tunnels predating the invention of the Apparition spell. Apparently, he had done an article about it, but the Dark Lord had censored it before it could reach the press. It was his Master's reaction that gave some hope to Severus that there had been some truth in it.
So here he was, following a sometimes insightful, but mostly ditsy student.
Thankfully, it seemed like he had taken the right decision in bringing her because she soon found a door hidden behind layers of spells and distracting wards. Luckily, they seemed mostly keyed to his Dark Mark and intentions and he soon had the door open with an ominous creaking. After a few cursory spells to make sure that the ceiling was solid and that the corridor was devoid of life, he and the three students ventured him inside and down the Lumos-lit corridor.
The first hundred meters or so passed without incident until his wand abruptly stopped working and they were left in the dark. Miss Macmillan, obviously not one to believe something without having tested it herself, tried to produce a few spells with her wand but did not manage even a spark. Severus felt slightly vindicated at that and allowed himself a short comment on her lack of trust in his ability that he was sure had her blushing in shame. Good.
After that, the group continued their progression more slowly in the inky darkness. They soon felt the wall stop under their running fingers. Upon closer study, they found out that they were at a crossing and now had a choice between heading left or right.
Severus squinted and thought he could see light coming from the left corridor.
"Miss Macmillan, come with me. Mister Weasley, you are to stay with your sister and miss Lovegood until I call out for you to join us. Do not head right. Stay put. Is that clear?" he said in his most intimidating voice.
Ronald Weasley nodded uncertainly, seemingly about to protest that he wanted to follow his girlfriend and not leave her with the greasy Headmaster, but he wisely kept his mouth shut for once.
Severus, his unresponsive wand lifted before him, followed the left path slowly, Miss Macmillan to his right and slightly behind. The situation worried him because he thought he knew what had caused this crippling state. The ward Harry and he had worked on for the past months had come dangerously close to being a containment ward and, despite his better efforts, he had never been able to confirm or infirm that someone had copied their research notes. He also knew he should have informed the Dark Lord of the possibility, but he had not, his own habit of keeping everything to himself honed through years as a spy doubtlessly influencing his decision. He regretted it now as he could imagine how much their invention was damaging for anyone who got caught in the rebels' trap. Purebloods, especially, would simply have no idea of what to do without functioning wands. To be honest, even if he was a Half-Blood, he had lived for so long in the magical world that he was not much better off.
He knew that the ward they had created could never take away someone's magic, but it affected the connection between the inner magic and the ambient one because that was the channel through which the Dark magic intoxication could pass. As such, he suspected that in the current denaturation of the ward allowed Animagus access to their skill and wizards superior healing, strength or speed if they knew how to channel their inner magic for such purposes. They just could not do any spells and that was crippling enough.
The only way to reverse it would be if they could find the Ministry's core of wards, but Severus had no idea where it was situated and no way of knowing without access to detection spells...
His train of thoughts was suddenly cut short when he turned a corner and found himself in front of the pulsating glory that was the Ministry's core. Well, talk about a coincidence, he thought. His eyes followed coloured threads unconsciously before losing them in the complicated structure.
This will take a while, he thought as he started to analyse what he saw, Miss Macmillan at his side.
.
o0o0o
Marvolo and I exited another room rapidly and I followed him through research labs filled with bizarre things.
In nearly each room, we would find a small group of enemies looking for us and take them down as quickly as possible. I would like to say that it was glorious battles, but it mostly felt like routine executions than anything else. I had the advantage of being invisible, and Marvolo knew the layout really well, having been countless times in the Department through his years as head of the state. It also seemed like he had dressed up for the occasion, since in his robes were sewed complicated runic protections. Too bad he did not have another set for me, but it did not bother me too much, since he was the one to do most of the fighting anyway. The Cloak seemed to offer some sort of protection as well, if I thought back at the flying bullets in the elevator, but I was not ready to capitalise on it. So, I just hopped around, following him through the maze of corridors and trying not to vomit when I added to the cadavers piling up around us.
Also, upon closer examination of the guns, we had determined that they were modified so that they only responded to the magical signature of their bearer.
It brought an interesting dilemma for them. Since the wards were activated, they could not cast out their magic anymore. Therefore, the only way for their guns to keep working was to never take their hands off them. It wasn't exactly the most convenient system, but it was probably the only way they had found to make sure that we would not simply steal the guns from them and use it to kill everyone like the psychopathic maniacs that we were. Not that we killed less people because of that strategy, but it was doubtlessly more of a challenge now than if we could have gunned everyone down.
For some reason, killing people who had guns with my knife and fists felt somehow more justified than if we had guns ourselves. It helped fuel my anger at their blatant cowardice and the constant action kept my adrenaline pumping. My knee had not stopped bothering me, but at least, the pain had abated somewhat and the whole leg felt numb with the amount of magic I directed in it. I still wasn't as fast as the Dark Lord, however, as he seemed to have taken something that made him flow like water between the enemies.
In one room, we had found a few magical artefacts and I had broadened my arsenal to include a few precious throwing knives. Marvolo stuck to his fancy sword. At some point, I asked him how he got it.
"So...how exactly did you come to own a badass long sword like that one?" I asked between two blood baths.
"Oh, it's a British national heritage. I felt it was appropriate to defend my country with it," he answered nonchalantly while lifting the sword up to look at the design.
"A heritage? Wha..." I began, before some of the runes on it caught my attention. "Don't tell me you've been chopping heads with Excalibur the whole time," I asked with a sigh.
He turned a gleeful smirk at me.
"Why, if you insist, my dear Harry, I won't tell you."
I bumped into him in retaliation, a small smile on my lip.
"I thought you said Merlin was a poser," I reminded him.
"Just because Merlin was an amateur does not mean that the Arthurian legend as a whole was as disappointing. I have always been fond of Morgana's character, for instance. She reminds me of Bellatrix, sometimes. When she was younger and full of passion," he reminisced with a small smile on his lips as we arrived at a new door.
Before I could reply anything to his comparison, he lifted a finger up to shut me up and opened the door carefully.
Surprisingly, no one was there to welcome us. In fact, the whole room seemed strangely empty. There were a few desks in the corners, a sort of well in the middle and basins filled with potions releasing a mouth-watering odour at the far side of the room.
It smelled like treacle tart, the wood of a broomstick handle and something spicy that just screamed "Marvolo" to my senses. I started to walk in that direction when I felt Marvolo's hand settle on my shoulder.
Suddenly, I started to feel euphoric and nearly dizzy with happiness. I plastered a hand on my tingling scar and giggled stupidly. Marvolo sighed and mumbled grumpily to himself at my behaviour but I buried my head in the crook of his neck, breathed in deeply and hugged him as tightly as I could. Marvolo sighed again, but did pass his arms around me for a second or two and rubbed my back. He pulled the hood of my Cloak back and carded a hand through my hair. I nearly purred at the feeling and I guessed that was where he drew the line because he pushed me off him directly after.
"Weren't you supposed to have good Occlumency shields?" he asked exasperatedly after I laughed suddenly for no apparent reason. He started to pull me away from the room and shut the door. The odour stopped but I still felt happy and floated after him distractedly.
I turned a big grin in his direction.
"You can't shield the happiness that comes from within," I answered cheesily with a hand on my heart. "And don't try to tell me that you don't feel as happy as I am, I can feel it all in my scar," I continued taking his hand in mine. It felt so warm that I wondered why we were not holding hands all the time. I barely noticed that we had entered another empty room.
He let his hand rest in mine and scrutinised my forehand for a moment before he sighed again.
"I should have known. You are feeling what is happening at the parade, Harry, not what I am feeling here," he explained.
That made me pout a bit.
"You don't feel happy to be with me?" I asked mock-indignantly.
He rolled his eyes, but moved his other hand to rest against my scar. I sighed in contentment at the warm touch and moved to burrow myself deeper in his embrace, but slowly, the euphoria started to abate and I froze self-consciously on the spot.
I opened my mouth to apologise for my behaviour or make excuses for myself, but before I could, I heard the door of the room suddenly burst open. I jumped away from Marvolo and poised a knife in the direction of the door, ready for our usual tactic. A group of about fifty Rebels ran in the room with their guns pointed at us but strangely did not fire. When they circled around us, I confusedly took notice of the room in which we were. It was dark and the ground was elevated in the middle where a Veil stood. I shivered at the realisation that Marvolo and I were standing close to it because I knew from the stories I had heard when I was younger that this was used for death sentences. I inched away from the structure and exchanged a silent look with Marvolo. The situation was not looking good for us.
Then, someone I knew very well stepped inside the Death Chamber. Moody. And he was pulling someone else with him. I recognised the awkward form as my childhood friend Neville. Judging from the glazed look in his eyes, it was obvious that he had not come of his own will, but he also did not look like he was in danger. Not as much as Marvolo and I were, at least.
I thought of my earlier realisation and decided that I had made my peace with the idea that I would die today, but that I would be damned if they got Marvolo and Neville as well. I stepped forward and limped down a few steps. I heard all the guns move and aim at my approaching form. Above all, I heard Marvolo's slight intake of breath when I stepped directly between him and Moody. I stopped when I was at the same distance from both and lifted my head to glare straight at Moody, silently challenging him to shot me down.
He burst out laughing. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping, but I stayed in place nonetheless.
"Oh, Merlin, you're whipped, boy," he chuckled with his gruffly voice. The people around him shifted in discomfort.
"I will give you that, Riddle, you have always been good to brainwash the people around you. 'Must be pretty satisfying to see one as clueless as he is to your manipulations," commented Moody with a knowing smirk.
"Shut the fuck up, Moody. You know nothing," I spit at him before Marvolo could answer.
He chuckled again and I wanted nothing more than to throttle him.
"Oh well, I suppose he told you about the way he poisoned you at New Years Eve to further his diplomatic goals? That conversation went down well, then?" he mocked.
I felt something twist in my guts and I was about to tell him to go fuck himself when I glanced back at the Dark Lord. By now, I knew how to read him well enough to see the reluctant admission on his face. I gaped at him uncomprehendingly.
"But...it took months to get back on my feet! I nearly died!" I protested incredulously.
Marvolo clenched his jaw and looked away.
He hissed:
§ It would not have been nearly as damaging if it was not for the Veritaserum you drank that day. If you had just told me, I would have...§
"No! No! You don't get to blame that on me! You poisoned me! I trusted you and you nearly killed me!" I shouted back. I thought of how grateful I had felt when he stayed at my side and how I saw it as a sign that I was important for him. In the end, he was just feeling guilty for having nearly killed me. That explained why they had so much trouble accusing Delacour for the incident. It just hadn't been him.
§You never trusted me! If you had, you would have given up that idiotic Duel months ago. Let me guess, you trust me enough to let me fuck you, to sleep next to me and to expect me to save you from whatever trouble you get in because of your impulsiveness, but not enough to free us from the constrictive terms of the Duel. Now, if one of us is shot down today, the other will be in agony just long enough to make sure he has no chance of escaping. Is that what you wanted, Harry? To make sure that we will both die at the same time? Would that comfort you in the afterlife if you knew that I will follow closely after?§ he challenged.
I felt like he had slapped me. I had completely forgotten how the Honour's Duel would affect him if I died today like I expected to. But I was confused in what I was supposed to feel with the new revelation of today. So, he had not been above poisoning for some political scheme or another? Had he also staged the whole fiasco with Gabrielle, or was that still just how twisted his dear Death Eaters were?
"Did he mention the Duel, Harry? I have heard of it. It was quite clever of you, boy. Sirius would have been proud of you," started Moody, making my stomach lurch painfully at the thought of my deceased godfather. He had been the one to teach me about the old Duels in the first place. "He is trying to make you give it up, isn't he? The minute you do, he will get rid of you, you can be sure of that. With the two boys from the Prophecy present, he won't risk it."
I gulped uncertainly and glanced at Neville, who had a look of distant shock on his Imperius-slackened face. So the old man had gathered us both in the hopes that one would accomplish the Prophecy on the spot? He was trying to set me up against Marvolo and I was letting it get to me spectacularly. I gritted my teeth in frustration and tried to put order in my racing thoughts.
Obviously, Marvolo had no qualms using me to further his political goals. Was he doing it again today? Was this what Crouch's 'capture' of me was about? Just one of his games again? I knew I let the accusation drop quickly earlier, but what if he was testing me today? He might expect me to live, because I didn't think he would like to lose his Horcrux, but maybe Moody was right and his response to the day's event did indicate that he was planning on putting me further in his debt, or forcing me to choose to forfeit the Duel or not. I had trouble accepting that he would condone what happened...or nearly happened in the room with Crouch. Marvolo was usually very possessive of me, after all. So if what happened with Crouch wasn't planned, but that he was trying to take advantage of the situation to make me forfeit, where did that leave me? Would he really ask for something like my 'eternal servitude' when he already had hundreds of minions? Wasn't the one special thing I did bring him the fact that we were as equal as we could be? That I wasn't a mindless minion or an obedient dog?
I silently pondered the question for a moment. Finally, I turned slowly toward the Dark Lord and asked him:
§ I don't have much on me at the moment, but if I forfeit, will you accept my Invisibility Cloak as a fitting payment? §
I felt decidedly uncomfortable at the flash of triumph I saw in his red eyes and at the satisfied grin that took over his face.
"What have you done, boy? Don't you realise that Riddle has never ceased to believe in the Prophecy? He just fooled you into think he had, built a mockery of a relationship, with conflicts and dilemmas, but he has never changed and never will. How realistic was it that a 71 years old Dark Lord would….fall in love with someone who was young enough to be his grandchild…if you are not, in fact, related," edged in Moody.
I whirled around, incredulous. What the heck was he on about?
Seeing that he had my attention, Moody continued animatedly.
"You are a Parseltongue. Only descendants of Slytherins can be one. Who is to say that Lily Evans wasn't the bastard child of his uncle Morfin Gaunt? That Riddle has not built up this story about you being a Horcrux all along to keep you under control because he is afraid of the Prophecy and couldn't act on it while there was the Duel and he wasn't sure of its outcome? After all, your mother's protection has created strange enough results before. He couldn't risk another sojourn in the realms of the spirits by hurrying in combat without knowing how good you are. So he bid his time, watching and evaluating, all the while laughing inside at how pathetically easy to manipulate you are, how easily you submitted to him. He fed you his dark, addictive magic until you were dependent on his presence completely, until you believed his tales of Horcruxes, until you lowered your guard around him and showed him your secrets, trusted in him, until you gave up the fight against him completely. And that's when he would act..."
All throughout Moody's impassioned explanation of the Dark Lord's plan, I felt myself growing more puzzled and angry. By the end, I felt indignant. Just how credulous did Moody think I was? Even if I was somehow related to Marvolo, which I doubted very much, I had spoken to the Horcrux in my scar and I had felt it stirring in me enough times to know that it was real and not just a construct designed to manipulate me. In the end, I just had to focus on what I knew of Marvolo. He had not been above lying to me and manipulating me by telling me that I was his soulmate months ago, but he would not expose his Horcruxes by talking to me about it just because he wanted to keep me docile at his side.
Moody had continued talking, but Marvolo knew me enough to stay silent and just let me work through it. Perhaps that was what decided it. I clenched my jaw and decided that the past nine months with him could not have been just manipulations and deceit. And if they had been, maybe it would be preferable to be kept in the dark for a few moments more.
I took my blood-soaked Cloak off my shoulders and rolled it roughly in a compact ball. I showed it to Marvolo.
§Do you accept this as payment for my forfeit? § I asked him.
§ I accept your forfeit and the payment you offer as compensation. The deal will be settled once you give the cloak to me, § he indicated.
"No! Don't!" shouted Moody as I prepared to throw the Cloak over to Marvolo. I frowned at him. He should not even have known what we agreed on, since he wasn't a Parselmouth. He took out a weird cup from one of his pocket and a vial. From the agitation I suddenly felt in my scar, I guessed that he had somehow gotten his hand on another Horcrux.
"You will hand the Cloak over to me now, Harry. Don't give it to him. It was your father's Cloak, Harry, you really don't want to give it to his murderer," argued Moody.
I paused to frown at him uncomprehendingly. What was so special about this cloak that he'd absolutely not want me to give it to Marvolo? I had used it plenty and it was a nifty tool, but it was not as if the Dark Lord needed it to be invisible or anything. Was Moody afraid that Marvolo would just put it on now and escape?
§ Harry, you have to give me the Cloak to settle this issue with the Duel, § reminded me Marvolo.
"Boy, if you give him that Cloak I will destroy the Cup right now with this Basilisk venom," threatened Moody.
We were at a standstill for a moment. I glanced at the Dark Lord and he nodded imperceptibly. I decided that Moody would try to destroy the Cup whether I handed the Cloak to Marvolo or not. I turned around, threw the Cloak to him and started running toward Moody to prevent him from destroying the Horcrux.
Moody shouted: "Fire!" and threw the Cup on the ground before uncapping the vial and pouring it on the object. Neville, who had so far been standing immobile at the side suddenly managed to overcome the Imperius and kicked out the cup away from Moody. The venom fell on his foot instead. He started screaming in pain as it burned through his shoes but his screams were drowned by the detonation of the guns.
At the same time, I felt like something had lifted in me and I felt a rush of power come back to me. At first, I interpreted it as the confirmation that the Honour's Duel was settled, but then, when I turned around desperately to make sure that Marvolo had survived the gunshots, I found him standing tall with his wand in his hand and a shimmering Shield charm surrounding him. The wards had fallen!
I still did not have a wand, but the thought of pulling a Bellatrix on Moody did not disgust me as much as it probably should.
"Fiendfyre!" shouted Moody before my world erupted in pain. I fell to my knees and saw the Dark Lord collapse a few meters away. My scar burnt painfully and I gritted my teeth to get back up, my injured knee protesting violently at the movement. I faced Moody who was laughing delightedly at the charred remains of the Cup and blocked his line of fire with the Dark Lord by placing myself back in the way. I lifted my hand and gathered my Magic to make him blow up when he suddenly slashed his wand down in the familiar movement for the Unforgivable I knew so well. I stayed rooted in place, conscious that if I moved away, the spell would hit Marvolo, and saw the familiar green light make its way toward me.
Time slowed down for a moment.
I heard someone shout: "Harry, no!" and was suddenly pulled to the ground by an invisible force just in time for the light to pass above my head. I turned my head to Marvolo desperately and saw him propped on his elbow with his wand aimed at me. He had been the one to pull me down. I looked at him as he realised that he would not have time to move away from the deadly spell's path. Our eyes connected and I thought I saw resignation in them before the green light washed over him.
His elbow gave out under him and he fell face first on the ground, eyes still open. His wand escaped from his grasp and rolled down the slope toward me. His hair fell like a veil and covered his frozen expression from my eyes, but the sight was etched in my memory.
A mighty rage took over the little that remained of my control. A piece of wood rolled to my hand, as if begging me to use it and I grasped it tightly, feeling the rush of power as it accepted me as its new Master. I aimed the wand at the disgusting excuse of a human being that had killed the man I loved.
"When I am done with you, you will grovel and beg me to kill you, but I will make sure that you never find peace, even in the afterlife," I sentenced coldly as my wand began weaving complicated spells.
Screams erupted around me as a red veil fell over my vision.
.
o0o0o
The world was a blinding white universe. Tom Marvolo Riddle looked around confusedly. He was naked, but it did not bother him much. He had braced himself for months as a wraith until one of his faithful brought him back to life again. He had worried at how his country would fare when he would be gone, but he had not been prepared for complete death. Even if the Cup was gone, wasn't there still Harry out there? Unless he hadn't been a real Horcrux...but he had sensed the presence of his soul in his younger companion. What else could it be? Could Harry have died in the few instants of disorientation that losing his body inevitably caused? Perhaps that was it...
Marvolo had always refused to accept the inevitability of death. He was not done; he did not have enough time to accomplish the goals he had set for himself. He felt cheated of his life, angry. What could possibly have possessed him to push Harry out of the way? Despite being much younger than him, the other had looked like he accepted his early demise. It was Harry's style to sacrifice himself for the one he loved, no his, for Morgana's sake! Why? Why had he done it?
"Because I was wrong and you do love him, Tom," said a voice that had shown up unwelcomed in his thoughts a few times in the past years, but one that he never thought he would actually hear again. He had killed the man himself, after all.
Marvolo sighed and turned to face the intruder.
And there he was, long white beard, colourful robes and knowing twinkle in his eyes aplenty. The Dark Lord spared a moment to ask himself if it bothered him that the old man was seeing him naked. Then he dismissed the thought as unimportant.
"I was told the guide in the afterlife was supposed to be someone you respected. I killed you," he stated, deadpanned. At least, now he knew what happened to the soul in the afterlife. Now, if he could just go back to life to tell everyone not to expect their guide to be someone they actually appreciated, that would save the rest of humanity the enormous letdown.
Albus Dumbledore smiled indulgently at his frustration. Magic forbade the old man had changed somewhat after a decade in this empty white world. Dammit, he knew that his afterlife would be horrible, but this? An eternity with the old coot? That was unbearable.
"Yes, Tom, and yet, here I am by your own subconscious will. I must admit it puzzled me for a moment, but it does make sense for you to seek the familiarity that I bring. I also would even dare venture that I am one of the few you considered as an equal, isn't that right, Tom?" he said, looking at him above his glasses knowingly. Marvolo answered by grumbling angrily in his inexistent beard.
"Of course, there is also young mister Potter, but he has not yet passed in the afterlife, thankfully," Dumbledore continued. Marvolo's head shot up at the words. Harry was still alive? Why was he here, then?
"I would say, Tom, that I find your relationship a most unexpected but welcomed surprise. You were always such a lonely boy and you had a difficult childhood. I am glad you found someone so well suited for you, Tom."
Marvolo sighed in frustration.
"How many times have I asked you to stop calling me Tom? And why do you insist on using that name as often as possible in every sentence you utter?" he protested half-heartedly. He knew his efforts were in vain. He had only managed to make the old man shut up by killing him. Marvolo grinned at the thought. That victory had been immensely satisfying.
"Some part of you must like it if I am saying it here, Tom," Dumbledore pointed out annoyingly.
He silently conceded the point and wondered what part of this was in his imagination and what part was real. He also wondered what it meant if his subconscious had revived his memory of his old arch nemesis to give him advice about his love life after his death. It probably wasn't a good sign for his sanity.
"What does it matter that I have found the one for me if I am dead already?" he grumbled bitterly. He had been so closed to achieve his dream of world domination. France was within his grasp, Ireland was practically begging for him to take over and Spain was never much of a power to reckon with in the first place. Italy and Germany would be a challenge, but with the increased resources that the new territory would bring...
Dumbledore twinkled away at his admission and it distracted him from his plans of conquests. Not that it mattered anyway since he was dead. Dead. Dead. He suddenly felt the urge to go the nearest wall and bash in his head repeatedly like a disobedient House-Elf. At this thought, a wall appeared next to him. He frowned contemplatively. At least, the environment seemed somewhat accommodating. Maybe he could make himself more comfortable for this discussion. As he thought that, his study appeared around him and he sat in his favourite armchair next to the fireplace, wrapped in his softest bathrobe. What? Despite his better efforts, he was dead. He could indulge a bit, after all.
"It pleases me to hear you say that you have finally found the one, my dear boy. I should have known that it was not too late for you and that love can worm its way in the blackest of hearts."
Marvolo rolled his eyes at the cliché. Typical of the old coot. How had Harry called him once again? Bumblebee? He would never know how accurate that name was. When Dumbledore talked, all he could hear was a low buzzing drilling inane drivel in his protesting brain. He buried himself deeper in the armchair, wishing a cup of fine wine to life. Nothing came. He swore lowly at whatever power was responsible to decide which of his wishes to grant or not. Anyway, just because the surroundings were mildly helpful did not mean that he was pleased with the outcome. Because he really wasn't.
He straightened suddenly when a comeback came to him.
"So, old man. If it is as you say, and 'love always triumphs' and so on...Then why. The. Fuck. Am. I. DEAD NOW?" he roared in frustration.
"Well, my dear Tom, what do you know of the tales of the three brothers?" asked Dumbledore, still smiling peacefully, unaffected by the ire of his old student.
Marvolo let himself fall back in his armchair with a tired sigh.
"I know it is just that, a tale. I have tried to search for the Elder wand when I was younger but only found rumors and fantastic tales. What are you trying to tell me, Dumbledore? That I somehow managed to become the Master of Death unknowingly and can now choose to stay or run back to my lover's arms if I so desired?" he mocked.
Dumbledore coughed in his beard and sounded suspiciously like he was laughing at him. Marvolo did not think he was so far gone that a product of his subconscious would laugh at him, but he let it slide this time. Years of struggling to retain his sanity had taught him that some fights against yourself were simply not worth it.
"Well, let's see if I am right. You got the Resurrection Stone from the Gaunts..."
"What!" he interrupted, a flash of his old ring coming to his mind, but the old man continued anyway.
"...The Elder Wand's allegiance moved on to you when you bested me, but you never realised it because you did not touch my wand after I had died..."
" But..." he protested weakly, thinking of how the old man's peculiar wand had floated to him at the end of their Duel and how he had banished it back to the dead body without much of a thought afterwards.
"...And our dear Harry just gave you the Invisibility Cloak as a payment for that horrible Duel. I dare say, I am quite satisfied that you refrained from asking for more. I have seen some of the things you planned on demanding of him and I think it is better for everyone if..."
"Yes, yes, old man, be silent now. I must think," said Marvolo as he got up and started pacing.
He had unknowingly become the Master of Death right before he got killed. Oh, the irony! If he had known that the Deathly Hallows were more than just a tale, he could have bypassed the creating of Horcruxes altogether and kept his soul and his sanity intact. But what were the exact limitations of having such a title? Would he be brought back in this strange white universe every time he got killed? If so, it was infinitely more convenient than resurrecting through his Horcruxes, which would always be such a bothersome and painful process...
"Tom, if I may?" asked Dumbledore, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded at the old man distractedly.
"While I do not know the answers to your questions, having never heard of someone who had managed to gather the three Hallows at the same time, I would venture to say that perhaps you would like to keep your body intact so as to facilitate your return into it, isn't that right?"
"Of course I would! Where are you going with this, old man?" he bit out, annoyed at the pointless interruption of his thought process.
"Well, then, I would recommend that you head back to your usual plane of residence before someone manages to burn your body with that Fiendfyre my poor old friend Moody unleashed. Harry is doing a fantastic job to fend them all off, but even he can get a bit overwhelmed when he has to fight a room full of people while trying to deal with his grief. I would feel more comfortable if you were with him, my dear boy."
Marvolo turned and stared at his old enemy for a moment. He wondered if he should take advantage of the moment to throw one last good barb at him. Dumbledore smiled benignly at him as if he had heard his thoughts.
"I would suggest that you use your last moments here for something that would be beneficial for all, Tom," he said with a sad glance behind his shoulder.
Marvolo frowned and went to see what the old man was looking at. There was a settee in the corner of the room he had summoned. When he got closed to it, he started to hear whimpers. He bent down and discovered the three ugliest babies he had ever seen, all huddled together and moaning pitifully. They were red-skinned like newborns, and yet strangely wrinkled, and had deformed, noseless faces. He looked at them uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then turned back in Dumbledore's direction. The old man had disappeared.
"Morgana," he hissed out, before he stretched an arm under the settee. The babies abruptly stopped their whimpering and, as soon as he touched them, they released a sigh and dissolved in thin air. Marvolo unconsciously exhaled in answer as he focused on the peculiar sensation of contentment filling him that he now mostly associated with the postcoital glow of a spectacular, magic-crackling, toe-curling sex marathon with Harry.
He frowned at the thought of his lover fighting alone their enemies and got up again, searching for an exit to this strange world between life and death. As soon as he thought of leaving, he felt himself lose consciousness.
.
o0o0o
Slowly, the world found its colours again and he was back in the Death Chamber where pandemonium had erupted. From what he could see, Harry's strategy was to essentially Accio his enemies and move out of the way just in time for them to fall into the Veil. He was also slashing some of them down with a rage that Marvolo had never seen him exhibit before. On the other side of the room, having arrived in the meanwhile and probably responsible for the collapse of the wards, Severus was dueling Moody and some children in Hogwarts' uniforms were taking care of that Longbottom boy and Stupefying a few of the enemies as well. One of them, a girl with dirty blond hair and mismatched outfit was looking straight at him with a small smile. Well, time to put an end to this battle, he thought before grinning back. He called his wand to him, but instead of the familiar yew stick, Moody's wand shot out of the rebel's hand and landed in his with a satisfying smack... Oh, the sublime rush of power he felt at its contact was unlike anything he had lived. That was it! Undiluted power! He was the Master of Death!
He rose swiftly to his feet and could not help the delighted laughter that escaped his throat as he slayed ten rebels with one flick of his wand. His new acquisition understood him and his Magic without needing the hindrance of set spells. He took down another dozen before he searched out for Harry again. The young man had stopped fighting and was gaping at him like he could not quite believe the Dark Lord was still alive. Of course he was! Did Harry really think that a lowlife like Moody could kill him indefinitely? Speaking of Moody, where was the nuisance? Ah! There, sending a Banishment hex at Harry in the hopes that the boy would fall in the Veil. Well, that would not do, he thought as he flicked his wand. Harry flew straight into him, throwing him off balance for a short moment. He might have overpowered that one in his agitation. Oh well.
He looked down at his lover, trying to determine if Harry had been hurt while he was off visiting Dumbledore and who he had to torture to insanity if that was the case. His little Horcrux was looking at him with ridiculously large emerald eyes shining with joy, relief and what he guessed Dumbledore, or any other sappy idiot, would have summed up as "love". In Harry's hand was his old wand, and after ample consideration and barely a second of time, he decided that he quite approved of the additional reminder that Harry belonged with him.
Marvolo flicked out his wand to kill a few pesky rebels who were trying to take down his shields before he returned to his examination of his lover. Harry was now grinning at him like a loon, but he rather liked the look of it. It made him want to kiss the Magic out of his young lover because he was the Master of Death, because Severus had just captured Moody and because he caught sight of the younger version of himself in the doorway and rather thought he had done a good show when he had seen it two hours ago, before he went back with the Time-turner.
So kiss him, he did. With all his might.
.