A/N: This is a revised version of an old story from my HP fandom days under a different account. After letting it rest for a while, I embarked on an extensive rewrite, and I'm thrilled with the result. So, I've finally decided to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading!
Chapter 1
Anya Oaksdale moved purposefully through the dimly lit corridors of the old haunt, the Riddle House. The silence around her was almost deafening. As the petite brunette witch let herself in the door with a wave of her wand and unlocked the door, Anya noticed the lack of light the moment she entered the darkened abode and felt a chill run through her. Putting aside this concern, Anya reflected on how her life had changed since joining the Dark Lord's ranks. While not a Death Eater like her father, she hoped that his position would improve, benefiting her as well.
Memories flooded back from the past year, including the attack on the Quidditch World Cup and the loss of her fiancé, Dominic Brennan, who had been a Death Eater. Anya forcefully pushed thoughts of Dominic away, determined to move on. However, the pain of his death still haunted her, and she struggled to sleep peacefully.
Last night was no exception, as she fought to keep his memory at bay, feeling the emptiness in her heart. Despite her attempts to stay composed, dreams of Dominic frequently visited her during sleep, bringing tears and longing for his presence. These recurring dreams kept her from finding true rest, making her awakening all the more painful.
As the sun rose, Anya awoke, her cheeks wet with tears. The memories of Dominic continued to linger, leaving her with a profound sense of loss. Behind her closed eyelids, vivid visions of her time with Dominic came rushing back, as if she were reliving those moments through a Pensieve. She could almost feel him next to her, his intense green eyes and handsome European features etched in her mind.
The memories of his touch, his kisses, and the love they shared overwhelmed her as she dreamt. Each dream intensified the longing she felt for Dominic, only to be harshly awakened to the reality of his absence, leaving her heartache fresh and raw. Anya feared that she might never truly move on, berating herself for what she perceived as weakness. Working at the Ministry, near the place where Dominic had died, was initially difficult for Anya.
She couldn't escape the melancholy that enveloped her, especially when she was asked to assist Antonin Dolohov in infiltrating the Ministry for the Dark Lord's cause. Certain places in London, like the Leaky Cauldron or even the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, held too many memories of their time together, making it challenging for Anya to revisit them. She sometimes wondered if she might sense Dominic's presence in those familiar places, seeking a connection to the love they once shared. Yet, reality soon set in, reminding her that he was gone, and Anya scolded herself for her unfounded hopes. She focused on her work, immersing herself in her duties to distract from the pain.
Now, summoned by the Dark Lord to the parlor, Anya's steps quickened down the cold hallway. She couldn't help but worry about the reason behind the meeting. Rumors of the Order of the Phoenix seeking followers to oppose the Dark Lord weighed on her mind, and she felt a sense of unease at the potential threats to their way of life.
As she walked, her stomach tightened with anxiety, and she suppressed the bitter taste of bile in her throat.
As the months flew by, Anya led a busy life, juggling her day job as a menial front desk administrative clerk close to the Department of Mysteries, and her evening duties for the Dark Lord, often as a vigilant watch.
Immersed in her new job, she found solace in missing her boyfriend and contemplated what her future might hold. One day, she found herself standing hesitantly in the doorway of the drawing room. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the frail and small and weakened form of Lord Voldemort standing rigidly on the other side of the room. Even before she approached, he seemed to sense her presence, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and fear in his presence.
Summoning her courage, Anya addressed him with proper reverence and greeted him as "Lord." The creature in the chair that was her father's master merely acknowledged her with a slight nod and motioned for her to come closer. His piercing red eyes watched her closely, reminding her of a pit viper's gaze. Despite the unsettling sight, he spoke to her in a strangely soothing and languid tone.
"Miss Oaksdale, please come closer. I was beginning to think you might have lost your way. You are nearly late," he said, revealing slightly pointed teeth that briefly made her wonder if he had any connection to vampires.
Anya forcefully brushed aside the inappropriate thought that threatened to surface, her heart pounding in her chest. With trepidation, she approached the once-formidable Dark Lord, though now, in his weakened and monstrous state, he appeared far from intimidating.
As she laid eyes upon the wizard who had once struck fear into the hearts of many, she couldn't help the wave of revulsion that washed over her. The sight before her was of something resembling a scaly, hairless baby with oddly elongated limbs that seemed mismatched with its tiny body. The bile rose in her throat at the grotesque image.
Yet, the witch swallowed the bile in her throat and forced her expression to remain neutral. Anya wasted no time as she swiftly made her way to where the Dark Lord sat, noticing Antonin Dolohov nearby, ready to assist. Dolohov nodded and smiled at her, which brought a sense of comfort to Anya as she approached.
Upon reaching the Dark Lord, she kneeled with utmost reverence, her mind filled with questions about why he would want to see her. After all, she wasn't officially a part of his ranks. Despite her confusion, Anya was grateful for the Dark Lord's kindness towards her father. He had given him a second chance at life and had healed him, preventing him from suffering a painful death. This gratitude made her eager to be of any assistance he might require.
"Milord, you sent for me?" she nervously inquired, her voice trembling slightly as she turned to face him.
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Dark Lord motioned for Anya to stand, his tone surprisingly soothing. He acknowledged that she might be wondering why he had summoned her, putting her nerves somewhat at ease.
Anya couldn't help but feel like he could read her thoughts, though she had never asked her father or the Dark Lord if he possessed Legilimency or Occlumency skills. Regardless, she felt a bit embarrassed, as if he had heard her inner thoughts.
"Yes, milord," Anya confirmed, fidgeting with her fingers. "How may I be of service to you?" she asked, keeping her wide eyes fixed on him as he shifted weakly in his chair, though in his malformed state, she wondered how it was that the wizard could even twitch a finger.
The Dark Lord seemed deep in thought, and Anya's eyes drifted to his pale and bony feet as he slowly twisted his head to regard her intensely.
After a few minutes, he turned to face her again, his expression thoughtful.
"I would ask for your service alongside a Death Eater of mine who has agreed to infiltrate Hogwarts. Your assistance would greatly benefit both me and your father," he said in his languid tone.
Anya's concern instantly grew, unsure of what this new mission might entail.
"Lord?" Anya whispered with a shiver in her voice. Lord Voldemort turned his attention to her, his crimson eyes piercing. "My—my father, is he in any danger, milord?" she asked urgently, fear evident in her eyes. She was eager to help in any way she could.
"Not presently, no," Voldemort replied, his tone measured.
Anya furrowed her brows, sensing something deeper troubling the Dark Lord.
"Is there something wrong, Lord?"
Voldemort's lips curved into a faint smile. "You are perceptive, my dear. You are indeed Elias Oaksdale's daughter. I have received certain insights, and I believe you can play a crucial role in averting potential threats."
"I will do anything I can to help, milord," Anya vowed, her voice unwavering, though she avoided his gaze, suddenly feeling shy.
Voldemort nodded approvingly. "Your loyalty to your father and your commitment to our cause is commendable. Love may be a weakness for some, but in your case, it becomes an incentive to ensure your cooperation."
Anya's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected acknowledgment from her master. She quickly composed herself, assuming an impassive expression as she nodded in acknowledgment.
"You have served me with valor and honor," Voldemort continued, studying her reactions intently. "Your efforts in assembling our armies at the Ministry have been exemplary."
"It's been an honor to serve you, Lord," Anya replied humbly, her mind recalling her skill in casting the Imperius Curse on her fellow Ministry coworkers.
Voldemort's praise was chilling but earned. "You and your partner will not fail me, of that I am certain. Together, we shall achieve greatness."
As Anya scrutinized the Dark Lord's expression, she detected fleeting shadows of regret, and maybe even disappointment, crossing his pale features as he turned towards her and folded his hands.
"I could not have asked for a more devoted servant, Miss Oaksdale. However, the time has come for me to ask you to relinquish your duties within the Ministry," he said, frowning.
Anya's complexion paled, and a rush of anxiety swept through her. Her stomach sank, and her knees weakened. Instinctively, she reached for the back of a nearby chair for support as she staggered backward. Her knuckles turned white with the effort to steady herself, and she stared in disbelief at the man to whom her father and she had pledged their undying loyalty on the day he saved her father's life.
Working in the Ministry of Magic had always been Anya's dream, though not as a low-ranking desk clerk in the Administrations Department.
She had hoped that after a year of experience, she could proudly add to her resume, she could apply for a position within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, using her education to its fullest potential.
The thought of shouldering such responsibilities had always filled her with ambition. Anya was confident that if given the chance, the Dark Lord would be proud of her ability to lead and command. She believed he would recognize her skills, passion, and extensive knowledge of magical creatures, which could prove invaluable for his cause and the betterment of the wizarding world.
Especially after enduring the painful losses of Dominic and her mother, Anya desperately needed this job. It provided a distraction from the haunting memories of her past, particularly her time with Dominic.
Without her Ministry duties, she feared being consumed by those dark thoughts. Above all, a nagging fear crept into her mind – that somehow, she or her father had unwittingly displeased their master, and this was his way of punishing them.
"Lord, please," Anya asked softly and perplexed, unable to hide the pleading undertone in her voice, "have I done something to displease you? If I or my father made any mistakes, I assure you, they were completely unintentional. We hold nothing but loyalty and respect for you and your cause." Her concern for her father's future and her fate made her wonder about the Dark Lord's intentions.
Lord Voldemort maintained his usual impassive expression, and it was evident that Anya had misunderstood his words, judging by the distressed expression on her face. He sighed wearily, the sound rough as he lacked a nose.
"Miss Oaksdale, you misinterpret my request," he clarified. "Your talent surpasses that of many in my ranks. I believe you to be one of the brightest witches of your age, strong, skilled, and honorable. My decision to have you leave the Ministry has nothing to do with any failure on your part or your father's. Rest assured, you have exceeded the high expectations we had when you both pledged your loyalty to me."
Anya's confusion deepened, and she couldn't help but appear bewildered. "I don't understand," she stammered, her confidence waning.
Lord Voldemort knew he needed to bolster her spirits; she was the ideal candidate for the mission he had in mind, along with her new traveling companion who would serve as her escort and bodyguard.
"The truth is, Miss Oaksdale, I require your expertise elsewhere. Your vast knowledge of magical creatures is essential for a specific task," he revealed, carefully watching her reaction. "A task that involves your partner and ensuring the Potter boy through the Triwizard Tournament."
Anya's almond-shaped eyes remained fixated on her master, a mix of emotions crossing her face – confusion, disbelief, and surprise.
"The...The Triwizard Tournament, sir?" Anya's voice trembled with uncertainty, convinced she must have misunderstood.
"Yes," Lord Voldemort replied, nodding slightly. "Your actions and travels to ensure I return are of utmost importance. I need the boy for a procedure, only his blood would do, and the Triwizard Tournament is the perfect opportunity to see him brought to me," he explained thoughtfully. "The man I have in mind is the most fit for this assignment, however, even as brilliant a wizard as he is, he cannot do it alone."
Anya took a moment to process the information, realizing that her master's request carried greater weight than her mundane job as an administration clerk. Despite her love for the Ministry work, she knew this was her chance to prove herself, an opportunity she couldn't ignore.
With growing excitement and courage, she mustered the nerve to make her request. "If I may, sir," she started, her voice slightly shaky, "I'd like someone familiar to check on my father regularly while I'm away. He's growing older, and I can't leave him unattended for too long."
The Dark Lord let out a sardonic chuckle, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"You truly care for him," he remarked. "Consider it done. Do you have someone in mind?"
Anya nodded eagerly, glancing at Dolohov.
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I'd like to ask Dolohov to check on my father. His home is nearby, and my father has always held him in high regard. I'll compensate him for his time."
Dolohov, taken aback by the request, nodded in agreement. "Of course, I'll do it," he said, appreciating Anya's trust in him.
The Dark Lord's smirk widened, impressed by Anya's consideration.
"Very well," he declared. "It's settled then. You may proceed with your mission, and your father will be looked after."
Anya bowed her head gratefully, and Dolohov returned the gesture, ready to take on this new responsibility for the young witch and her father.
Anya beamed with pride as Dolohov's recommendation earned her the trust of their master. Her attention, however, swiftly returned to Lord Voldemort, who spoke again in his soft, commanding voice.
"Miss Oaksdale," he addressed her, bringing the focus back to the mission. "Preparations have already been made for your departure to the home of the Auror Alastor Moody in two days. The Auror will need to be apprehended and questioned, as your partner is in charge of impersonating him for the better part of a year if I am to succeed in bringing Harry Potter to me without arising suspicion. You won't be traveling alone; you'll have an escort. Meet with Rosier and Antonin to gather more information about your mission. Do you think two days will suffice to settle your affairs at the Ministry?" he inquired, though he already knew the answer.
Excitement filled Anya's eyes as she responded eagerly, turning to face the Dark Lord.
"Yes, Lord. Two days are more than enough," she confirmed.
Lord Voldemort seemed satisfied with her response, confident she would accept the task.
He turned to Dolohov, who tensed slightly but tried to maintain his composure.
"And what about you, Antonin?" the Dark Lord asked casually.
"I'll check on Elias tomorrow, sir," the Russian wizard replied immediately, looking down at the floor. He couldn't believe that the Dark Lord had chosen Anya for this mission based on his recommendation. He hoped she wouldn't disappoint him and ruin his trust in her abilities.
"Very well. It's settled," Lord Voldemort declared coldly.
He then turned his attention to his servant, a Death Eater of low-ranking status, Wormtail, Anya recalled her father calling this man once, in passing conversation, barking an order for him to lead the way out of the room. Wormtail, a cowering and hunched-over man, hurriedly obeyed, scurrying forward to escort his master out of the parlor.
Anya couldn't help but notice the fear in Wormtail's demeanor as he carefully cradled the Dark Lord's child-like form in his arms. The sight was almost pitiful, and Anya could have sworn she heard a whimper escape the wizard's lips. It was evident that Wormtail had no desire to touch the Dark Lord's weakened and monstrous form.
As the room fell silent, Anya and Antonin were left to digest the weight of the moment. Lord Voldemort's confidence in her abilities overwhelmed Anya, making her realize that her destiny might not be confined to London after all.
She knew she had to excel in this mission; the lives of her father and the wizarding world depended on it. As the events settled in her mind, Anya resolved to give her all to the mission, determined not to let the Dark Lord or her father down.
She embraced the uncertainty of the future, knowing that she had a chance to prove her worth in ways she had never imagined.