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Weapon (Possession Chapter LXVI)
Chapter XV - Final House Cleaning
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Elliot shivered and fought to hold back the whimpers. He'd prided himself on being a proud member of the Order of the Phoenix, of being able to fight, to duel maybe not brilliantly but adequately when necessary and in his reporting for the Daily Prophet, he'd prided himself on being able to face all - good and bad - that wizards could offer.

He was wrong.

The Dark Lord had dragged him through the shifting corridors of his stronghold. It had been a confusing mass of colour and there was no way he could have navigated it alone. It seemed there had been red masked Death Eaters at every junction and they had all fallen into line behind their Lord, moving silently. They'd emerged into a court yard where further Death Eaters waited, all red masked and silent. Serpents, too many to count had been gathered in a corner in one writhing mass. Behind them, strangely still but chillingly in their presence was a small group of Dementors.

The Dark Lord had released him then, pinning him in place with no more than a half glance as he'd stepped forward to address his children. Elliot didn't remember much of the speech. It had been a coldly logical address though and the battle plan had been laid out with callous precision. There had been no cheering, not excesses, nothing anyone associated with the dark forces.

They'd deployed silently, leaving their Lord alone. He'd flicked a charm at the gathered serpents after hissing a few words at them. They'd sorted themselves into some order but Elliot wasn't sure what they'd been called upon to do. The Dementors had bowed at him and then retreated back into the castle.

Once everyone and everything was deployed the Dark Lord had cast a further charm on himself, transfiguring his robes into heavy red velvet. Elliot wasn't sure was else he did with the transfiguration but he knew it was something. The Dark Lord had seemed powerful before the transfiguration, now he seemed invincible. With that, the long fingered hand had reached out again, grabbing him and there had been a pulse of power as the Dark Lord apparated.

Straight into hell.

That had been Elliot's first thought as he tried to look around the battle. He'd thought they were going to take a building, but this wasn't a building. This was open combat. There were small groups of wizards facing off against Death Eaters and waves of magic pulsed back and forth over the field. He looked up at the imposing visage of the Dark Lord but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was simply raking red eyes over the entire field, his expression stoic as he took in the results of his orders.

With a flourish of red robes the Dark Lord had stepped forward, casting charms with an accuracy that was hard to imagine. Elliot was vaguely aware of two red masked Death Eaters, descending upon him, strangely calm and collected within the chaos as they dragged him after their Master.

Bryant had stopped trying to fight the movement then, and allowed himself to be directed amidst the carnage, his legs just supporting him as the two Death Eaters wove their way through everything. He was defenceless, his wand was back on the table in that other room and even if he could have grabbed a wand from one of the fallen there was nothing he could do.

Above them a mottled dome was in place and Bryant felt his eyes widen as he recognised what it was. Displacement magic. It seemed incongruous that the Dark Lord would bother with such precaution: when did he care about the knowledge of Muggles? But he was the only one who could have cast such a large shield. The Ministry building and all within the shield would remain separate from the outside world until he, or someone else took the shield down. And the Muggles would know nothing! He gulped, watching the Dark Lord, confused. Had he truly been telling the truth about not caring, yet, about ruling the Muggles?

Elliot shook his head at the question before he re-focused his attention on the red robed Dark Lord. He had other things to consider now. He remembered the fear of the previous war but he hadn't been old enough to fight and there had only been rumours about You-Know-Who's prowess. He gulped as he realised the situation had not been understated.

Charms and curses were cast with the minimum amount of movement and it seemed for most spells he didn't even bother with the correct wand motion. His targeting was unerringly accurate and as Elliot watched several groups of wizards were taken out with a few well placed curses. But as he watched he noticed something peculiar.

The Dark Lord never attacked anyone within at least a twenty foot radius of himself. As several more groups fell, Elliot gulped as he understood the reasoning.

The small groups of wizards knew they had been attacked as soon as the first curse or charm broke within them and they then began searching for the perpetrator but in a battle such as this, where the combatants were always in motion it was difficult and they invariably looked towards the closest Death Eaters first. Once they confirmed that the attack hadn't come from them, in fact they were still accurately shielding against any close groups of Death Eaters, they began searching a wider radius for their attacker, and by then it was too late.

A few groups had managed to identify their attacker, and their eyes had widened in fear but that was only an instant before the final curse took effect. Elliot blinked back tears as he watched the fluid movements of the serpentine man. The rumours were true, every last one of them. He was truly a god of battle.

The Dark Lord glanced at the ground and hissed a few words to the serpent there before he turned with a smile towards the reporter. "It is nearly over," he reassured him, flicking a curse over the man's head at the wizard which was approaching from the rear. "They were slightly more ingenious with their defences than I thought," he said conversationally and Elliot couldn't help but notice the pleased smirk that appeared in the Dark Lord's voice. "What have you learnt, Bryant?"

"What is there to learn but the proof of your cruelty, your ability to destroy?"

Voldemort shook his head. "For a reporter, you see, but you do not see. A typical trait for one of the Order, I will admit, but one I had hoped the Old Man might have made some effort to weed out. Look around you."

Elliot looked again. He tried not to focus on the few battles still being waged, knowing that they would be over soon but looked towards the outskirts of the battle ground. Several Death Eaters were bent over other wizards, their wands in hand, and for a moment he thought that they were delivering the killing blow, until he noticed the soft violet haze of the magic, and gentle manner that other Death Eaters levitated their injured colleagues with before they apparated away. There were other Death Eaters moving through the injured but they were attending to the wizards. "H... healers?" He blurted disbelievingly.

The Dark Lord looked smug. "I do care for my own," he said coldly before he turned away again, leaving the reporter to his even more confused thoughts.

Bryant shook his head. It isn't possible. The thought would not go away as he struggled to breath around the shock coursing through his system.

A small group of Death Eaters formed up and entered the building they had been assigned to attack, an escort of serpents surrounding them.

He looked around further and sure enough most of the groups of wizards, those that were still conscious or alive were dropping their wands and being rounded up by the Death Eaters. They were being searched and other weapons and back up wands were being removed with swift efficiency before they were gathered into a singular group. The red masked Death Eaters made a perimeter around them, wands levelled and in plain sight. Several serpents wove their way around and through the wizards, their tongues continually testing the air as they sniffed out any potions or weapons that had not been detected.

It was all being conducted with quiet efficiency that Elliot knew the Order would be hard pressed, at least without significant training together, to duplicate. Only the most elite teams of Aurors or Unspeakables, those what had been together for years could hope to match the ease of efficiency. Elliot gulped. They had far more work ahead of them that he had ever believed possible.

After another hissed conversation with a serpent, a python this time, he turned burning red eyes towards the gathered wizards. They were shifting nervously as the gravity of the situation began to dawn upon them. Not only had they been defeated but now they were totally at the mercy of the most evil Dark Lord in memory, and they were completely defenceless. You could see the worry and the panic begin to dawn in their eyes. They had known it but it had taken a few moments for the information to really sink in. The cold calculating gaze of the Dark Lord seemed to have that effect.

The Death Eaters dragging Elliot dropped him unceremoniously in a position where he could observe everything and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. He didn't need to look to know that they had taken a step back and now had their wands trained upon him.

"Where is the Deputy Minister for Public Relations?" The voice was quiet but Bryant wasn't the only one who shivered at the tone and he knew that all the gathered wizards had heard it.

"He's... he's... not here." One of the wizards in the front stuttered, their eyes downcast.

One black eyebrow raised questioningly and the Dark Lord stepped forward. Slowly with an imperial air that defied description he reached out one long fingered hand to place one finger under the wizard's chin to raise their face to meet his gaze.

A condescending smirk appeared on his lips and his eyes were half hooded as he whispered again, ignoring the shaking of the wizard before him. "Where is the Deputy Minister for Public Relations?" The Dark Lord's voice even pitched at a whisper was still rich, like velvet but it was infinitely more dangerous.

The wizard shuddered, shrugging to look away but the Dark Lord help him firmly. He gulped, not a mean feat against the finger pressed under his chin. "He's not here."

There was a collective gasp as a small serpent appeared from the Dark Lord's sleeve. It inched forward, its tongue flickering. It was marked with brilliant red and black scales and several of the wizards flinched back as they realised how poisonous it was. Eventually it reared off the Dark Lord's hand to look into the wizard's eyes, its coils wrapped around his arm, disappearing into his sleeve. With a soft hiss and a snap so quiet it shouldn't have been heard but that seemed deafening its hood opened and it began to weave back and forth. The threat was obvious.

"You stink of the lie," Voldemort said easily, his eyes intent. "Where is the Deputy Minister for Public Relations? I will not ask again."

The wizard's eyes opened wide as the sheen of sweat covering him deepened. Tears began streaming down his face and you could see the calculation in his eyes. To tell, or not to tell. To live or die.

The Dark Lord looked on impassively. He could see everything but was unmoved by either the mounting tension or the panic. In fact he seemed to be radiating pleasure.

"I..."

Voldemort raised the wizard's head higher.

"I... I don't..."

As the wizard was speaking there came a shout from the building as the red masked Death Eaters who had stormed it earlier emerged from the door dragging a prisoner with them.

The Dark Lord bent low and whispered into the wizard's ear, "Be sure it's worth it before you die," before he rose and waited for the prisoner to be brought before him. The cobra had disappeared back into his robes.

The man kicked and screamed, struggling for all he was worth as the Death Eaters dragged him towards their Lord. With a casual back hand though, one of the Death Eaters stunned him briefly and they completed the short journey quickly, bowing before their Lord. A serpent gave a short hissed report which caused the Dark Lord to grin, leading most of the wizards to shiver again.

"My dear Tidius Moulton," Voldemort greeted the Deputy Minister for Public Relations easily. "It's been too long." The sense of regal imperialism had not faded.

Tidius looked up with wild eyes at the voice but he said nothing as he shook his head vigorously. Most of the wizards were looking on with shock and the one that had been questioned by the Dark Lord was shivering uncontrollably as he realised the truth.

"Moulton, Moulton, Moulton, you never told them?" Voldemort laughed. "Well, of course you didn't. The Ministry couldn't have a precious Ministerial position held by a Death Eater, now could they?"

"No..." Tidius whispered.

"You have had over a year to return to me," the Dark Lord said coldly, his aura of imperial power at full strength, eyes half closed as he looked in disgust at the man. "I have called numerous times but still you did not answer. Did you perhaps forget your vow to me?"

"My Lord... please..." One eye brow raised as the Dark Lord pulled his chin up.

"My children..." Tidius sobbed.

"Will be spared," Voldemort snapped. "You are merely stupid to ignore me but not suicidal enough to be involved in Lucius' action. Pray though, that they do not repeat their Father's mistake."

"Tha...Eargh!" Moulton screamed, his face twisted in horror, limbs contorted at the Dark Lord's gesture. He retained enough of his mind though to try to claw at his arm as he writhed in agony. It only took a few moments but to the watching wizards it seemed to take forever before Tidius' face blackened and his final breath left him in a rush.

The Dark Lord disregarded the body as he looked around. "You disagree with my decision?" He asked Elliot at the reporters horrified but questioning look.

"You killed him!"

"Of course," Voldemort said matter of factly.

"There was no reason to kill him."

"There was every reason to kill him. He swore an oath to me. Your vow to the Order of the Phoenix is binding for life, why should mine be any different?"

Elliot gulped, trying and failing in his attempt not to quail under that intense gaze as the Dark Lord walked towards him. He opened his mouth to speak but the words failed him and as he gathered himself to try again, he was interrupted.

"Die, traitor!"

The scream came from one of the red masked Death Eaters who as their Lord passed by, spun away from his guarding position, drawing a dagger and driving it towards the Dark Lord's back.

Elliot blinked. He never even saw the movement and only registered the concerned cries from the other Death Eaters once it was over. Voldemort moved, too fast to see, dodging the blow aimed at his unprotected back, somehow managing to catching the perpetrators arms with his left hand, flipping the man so that he was suspended, back to the ground, in the Dark Lord's grip. A long fingered white hand was wrapped around the left side of his chest and as the mask fell, they could see that the man was grimacing in pain. Blood red eyes burned intensely as the Dark Lord looked down and his robes fell around him as they caught up with the movement.

"I thought you would have known better, Amir," Voldemort murmured.

Before Amir could respond there was a wet crack and he gasped, gurgling. The cracking continued and Amir gasped, blood streaming from his mouth. He tried to scream but choked and his feet tapped a rapid stattaco on the ground as his eyes bulged. There was the smell of burning and the slick sound of something wet falling to the ground was heard before the Dark Lord let the body drop. With an indifferent snap of his hand he flicked the blood from his fingers, splattering several wizards.

Elliot wasn't the only one to gag at the sight of the body. The entire left side of the chest was one bloody mess. Bones protruded through skin and cloth in a disordered mess. Bubbles were popping softly through the blood and the flesh was burnt.

"You're..." Bryant coughed as he struggled to keep his stomach calm. The Dark Lord had done that all with his bare hands! "You're not human."

"I never claimed to be," the response came nonchalantly before Voldemort turned back to the wizards. "You have been utterly defeated, I think that much is obvious, but I can be merciful." Even the Dark Lord smiled at the irony of his words, two dead bodies at his feet and the blood still dripping from his hands. "No matter what you may think, I do not need corpses and so for now, I will leave. Consider this a warning, for I will not be merciful forever."

The Dark Lord raised his hands, energy collecting there and despite his words, the wizards flinched back. He smiled, that gastly smile that made a mockery of the word and raised both hands, "Noitaniur," he whispered, loud enough to be heard as a ball of red energy coalsed in each hand.

With a lazy flick he sent the first one into the Ministry building. It burned its way neatly through the wall and for an instant it didn't seem like there was any damage. Then came the boom and the sound of timber being stressed and collapsing on itself. Dust began to pour out of the shattered door.

The other ball of energy was thrown in, although the Dark Lord left his arm extended, his hand open wide. The second energy ball disappeared into the dust, but its crash through the walls and internal structure of the building could be heard.

With a slow motion Voldemort closed his long fingered hand into a fist. The noise was incredible and most of the wizards were cringing backwards. The dust was obsurcing everything so they couldn't see what was happening but they didn't need to.

Finally the crashing noise ceased and all that could be heard was the occasional bounce and crunch of small rumble settling. With a wave of his hand the Dark Lord summoned a wind and drove away the dust to reveal the ruins of the building

Plaster and timber rose at odd angles and nothing looked whole.

"I must remember to thank Lucius for that charm," Voldemort murmured as he once more made a small gesture before proudly pronouncing the words that caused the wizards the shudder. The building was bad enough but these words had been drilled into them to fear for their lives. "Morsmordre!"

The emerald skull made of stars with its snake tongue rose into the air, expanding as it moved to hover over the destroyed building. But this time the skull was different. Emerging from the skulls temples and from a point behind the serpent's ears, down on it's body, made of little black stars were wings. Like everything else on the mark they were perfectly defined.

The Dark Lord looked at his hand, flexing his fingers before he smiled again. "I should have expected that," he said unconcerned at the change in his symbol.

"Next time, bow to me or die."

With that Voldemort nodded towards his forces and as one they vanished. He raked ruby eyes once more over the still trembling wizards, most of whom didn't dare breathe before he gave a rich laugh and vanished, the echo of his mirth lingering in the air.

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