A/N: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and her associates. Please support the official release.
At long last... the chapter is here. Settle in for the final part of Act 3. Here... we... go.
Road to Hogsmeade
The walk to Hogsmeade was anything but pleasant. A bitter chill nipped at the edges of Harry's Heating Charms, constantly threatening to break through to exposed skin. The drifting snowflakes littering the air melted as they came into contact with said charms, resulting in a light tapestry of droplets that clung to his dress robes.
Next to him on the road, a flock of students huddled close with scarves covering their faces, seeking warmth in numbers. It was readily apparent that most of them either did not know or care enough to cast Heating Charms of their own, which Harry found to be both commendable and stupid. If nothing else, tackling the biting cold without it showed remarkable resilience and dedication to the cause of Butterbeer and romantic weekend outings.
In the distance, the little thatched cottages and shops that made up the village of Hogsmeade gradually came into view. It would appear the hamlet had yet to let go of the festive spirit of Christmas – there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees – but then again, Harry had never seen it without those decorations, so it was hardly a surprising sight. He had a sneaking suspicion the residents of Hogsmeade kept them up the entire year 'round.
Further up the column of students, Harry could just about make out the contours of Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass. Their matching blonde hair almost made them look like siblings - though no one at school would make the mistake of assuming them as such. Despite their similarities in appearance, there was a veritable mountain separating the Malfoy family and the Greengrass family in terms of political influence.
Bloody stupid, if you ask me, Harry frowned to himself. That's how you know your House has an issue – when one of your students is all but forced to go on a date against her will.
He did not want to paint the entirety of Slytherin House with the same brush – he knew there were good people amongst the rabble – but there was no denying that Snape seemed to be running quite the clown show over there.
Picking up the pace, he shimmied past a gaggle of students whilst keeping his eyes firmly locked on the blonde-haired duo. He needed to stay within eavesdropping range so he could listen in on their conversation – not that it seemed to matter much, given the fact that they rarely spoke to one another. Daphne's lips were pulled into a tight line as she kept a reluctant grip on Draco's hand; a surefire sign that the gesture was not doing much for her in the romance department.
Draco, for his part, looked distinctly pleased with himself, if not a bit put out at the apparent awkwardness of the situation. It would seem the young Malfoy scion was struggling to come up with suitable conversation topics, as the two of them really did not have much in common what so ever. Harry suspected that Draco had only taken an interest in Daphne due to her appearance and status within the school, but he obviously had no way to prove that beyond intuition.
Nevertheless, their little date was off to a not-so-great start as they arrived at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the little village positively buzzing with life. It would appear that a large majority of the Hogwarts student base had decided to take the trip here today, and the resulting cacophony lit up the snow-decked streets with an enchanting sort of liveliness. Whichever way you looked, you'd see students huddled around shop windows, students holding hands and students engaged in cheerful conversations with one another.
All told, it was a lovely scene. A lovely scene, and also a convenient one.
With all of these people around, blending in will be easy, Harry smiled, falling back a bit in order to avoid being spotted by Draco, who was currently looking around for the next destination on his date schedule. Harry secretly hoped he'd pick somewhere relatively private, like the outskirts of the Shrieking Shack or something. It'd make his forthcoming intervention that much easier to execute. He'd given his Invisibility Cloak to Hermione, so she could sneak into the Restricted Section of the library in her quest for answers, so he needed Draco and Daphne somewhere nice and quiet with few eyes.
But, of course, like most senseless students on their first date, Draco soon set course for Madam Puddifoot's instead.
Great, Harry thought. Just my luck.
With annoyed reluctance, he followed after the Slytherin duo, brushing past two lovesick students who were currently busy snogging near the entrance to an alley. As he walked, he picked up bits and pieces of on-going conversations, all of which seemed to be focused around one key topic – the potent combo of Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass visiting Hogsmeade together.
It would appear that people had finally started to take proper notice of their little excursion. Disbelieving stares and hushed whispers followed the blonde-haired duo wherever they went, which soon turned to full-on discussions as they left. Harry had no doubt that this particular sighting would be making its rounds in the Hogwarts rumor mill come evening.
If they noticed any of the excitement surrounding them, Daphne and Draco did a very good job of hiding it. Daphne in particular remained entirely unfazed, walking with a neutral expression as she made her way down the packed village streets.
Harry wasn't really sure when and how he was supposed to intervene in their date, but figured he'd keep following the duo until an opportunity presented itself. Daphne had explained it in a way that made Draco seem deathly afraid of Harry, but he doubted things were so black-and-white. Despite his earlier beatdown of the Slytherin boy, Draco was still a Malfoy, and Malfoys were nothing if not prideful. Harry would count himself lucky if he managed to get him to piss off without having to resort to physical violence.
And besides… Do I really want to go all Rocky Balboa on Draco's ass for a second time? Harry mused, feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty and doubt overcome his mind. There has to be a different way to go about this…
He was interrupted in his thoughts by an unexpected development, however – Draco had suddenly made a sharp left, directly into a dingy-looking alleyway. He'd practically had to drag Daphne with him, who had clearly not been expecting him to make such a hasty detour either.
Hm? What's this? Harry frowned, stopping in his tracks to give the couple some time to move a bit further ahead before he followed after them. Draco wasn't supposed to do that. Is there something in that alley that I don't know about?
Shaking his head, he counted the seconds before he could spring back into action again.
Either way, I have to follow them. Better to be safe than sorry, after all, and if Draco is planning to do something to Daphne…
He did not want to consider what he'd do to the Slytherin boy if such a thing came to pass.
Hogwarts
Neville Longbottom was having a splendid day. He had been up at the crack of dawn, brimming with energy to an unusual degree. The other boys in the Gryffindor dormitory had all been fast asleep – it was a weekend, after all, which meant long evenings and even longer mornings – but Neville had risen from his bed at the first sign of daylight.
He had walked to the Great Hall with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. Breakfast had yet to be served, but he had taken his usual seat all the same, happy to wait for the House Elves to finish their tasks.
The reason behind his newfound vitality was simple; he had a date with Luna lined up for later, and the thought of that alone was enough to chase all notion of sleep from his mind. They were going to Hogsmeade; the number one destination for all love-struck Hogwarts couples looking for a romantic retreat.
Neville had already been to Hogsmeade multiple times in the past, but always by himself. He'd never once been able to experience what it was like to bring a date there, though he had daydreamed about it on several occasions.
In hindsight, it was almost incredible to think about how much his life had changed in the past year. He felt like the Neville that had existed prior to his friendship with Harry and Hermione was almost a stranger to him at this point – a weak, cowardly boy who'd had nothing but plants and amphibians to keep him company.
At his core, he was still all of those things, of course; but now, he also had confidence, friendship, dueling experience, knowledge, and a partner he was so in love with, he could scarcely put it into words.
In a lot of ways, he owed it all to Harry. But at the same time, he didn't. Harry had simply been the catalyst he needed to evoke change in himself. The disrupting power necessary to cast his previous self into the proverbial fire, in order to be reforged into a stronger man.
His successes were his own. Simple as that. And yet, the sense of gratitude he felt towards Harry for allowing him to make said change was entirely overpowering.
He no longer wished to be a mere friend to Harry Potter. He wanted to be a proper ally – a brother in arms, someone who could be relied upon, should the need ever arise.
And so, he swore to himself that he would do better. Be better. Devote himself more to his studies, and spend more time dueling with Luna. Learn more under Hermione's tutelage, and work more on his courage. It was the least he could do to repay the man that had given him so much.
For now, though, I need to get ready for my date, he thought to himself with a smile as he watched breakfast materialize on the tables in the Great Hall.
Hogsmeade
Hurrying down the abandoned alleyway, Harry soon laid eyes upon the Slytherin duo once more. They were standing at the far end, pressed up against what looked like a solid stone wall.
It's a dead end, Harry realized, before slowing down a bit. And there's nowhere for me to hide.
He needn't have worried much about that, however, as the couple seemed to be heavily engaged in discussion, paying little attention to their surroundings. Draco was saying something to Daphne which was causing her eyes to grow wide with surprise.
What's that he's telling her? Harry wondered. I can't make out the wor-...
A flash of energy suddenly lit up the alleyway, momentarily blinding him.
Argh! W-What the…?!
Taking a surprised step backwards, Harry pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes.
I need to see what's happening…!
Blinking away the bright spot in his vision, he focused his gaze on the couple once more. And promptly felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.
Daphne was now laying face-first down in the snow, with Draco standing above her, wand outstretched.
Wait… What the fuck is going on?! Did he just…?
But, before he had the chance to properly process what was unfolding in front of him, a second flash of energy flared into existence behind him.
WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!
Spinning around on his heels, he felt his mouth drop open at the sight that awaited him.
It was Neville and Luna. They were standing near the entrance to the alley, with Luna's wand pointed up and at him.
"Neville? Luna?" he blinked. "What are you guys doing here?"
"We're on a date," Luna explained. "Or we were on a date, I suppose. Now, we are helping you."
"Y-Yeah!" Neville nodded. "We spotted you from outside The Three Broomsticks, and noticed that you seemed to be following Malfoy."
"And then you ducked into this alleyway," Luna continued. "Where we arrived just in time to see Malfoy stunning Daphne."
"A-Ah," Harry said, blinking twice in an attempt to clear his confused mind. "And then you-…"
"Stunned Malfoy," Luna smiled. "Take a look for yourself."
Shifting his gaze to the other side, Harry was surprised to find the Malfoy heir crumpled into a pathetic heap near Daphne, his body stiff and unmoving.
"W-Well then," Harry breathed. "Thank you for the help."
"You're welcome," Luna replied.
"You're not helping anyone," a gruff-sounding voice suddenly interjected. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Within moments, both Neville and Luna went stiff as boards, their bodies frozen in place.
FUCK.
Running his eyes up and down the length of the alleyway, Harry frantically searched for any sign of a perpetrator. Sadly, he neglected to consider height, and shortly afterwards, a blue flash in the upper left corner of his field of view left him reeling. Prepared to face his attacker, he got ready to move, and…
Nothing. He did nothing.
His body refused to listen to him. He'd been hit by the Body-Bind Curse as well.
Feeling his equilibrium shift out of balance, he toppled over and fell hard onto his side, unable to catch himself due to his numb muscles.
From a nearby rooftop, two Death Eaters came swooping down, landing with soft thuds on the snow-covered ground. Their faces were obscured by hoods and ornamental skeletal masks, leaving little clue as to their identity.
"Looks like they got Malfoy," one of them said as they approached the mass of bodies. "Let me get him back up real quick. Rennervate!"
A spasm of movement went through Draco's body as the Death Eater cast the spell on him, before he opened his eyes with a loud gasp.
"H-Hah! Huh… Huh…" Draco puffed, eyes wide and frenzied. "F-Fucking Mudbloods… I didn't see them coming."
"You're alright," the Death Eater said, before offering the Malfoy scion his hand. Draco looked at it for a second, before promptly rising to his feet on his own, refusing to accept it.
"They won't get so lucky next time," he scoffed, before running a shaky hand through his ruffled blonde hair. "You struck at the right moment, at least."
"Just like we planned," the Death Eater nodded. "Though I didn't expect to get Potter's friends as well. Guess Lady Luck is with us today."
"So it would seem," Draco breathed, before shooting a look down the alley. "You made sure to put up protective wards, right?"
"Of course," the man said. "What do you take me for, an amateur?"
"Just making sure," Draco snapped back. "We don't want to be interrupted."
Turning around, he moved to face Harry's rigid body instead.
"Now, Potter," he spat. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice someone slinking around with my girl behind my back? That I would be so fucking spineless as to allow you, of all people, to scare me away?"
A look of utter disgust fixed itself on Draco's face as he lifted his leg and delivered a powerful kick to Harry's stomach, eliciting a groan from behind frozen lips.
"You forget your place, Potter! The sorting hat placed me in Slytherin for a reason! The shadows are my domain, not yours!"
There was no response, of course. Harry could not physically move, after all. But inside, a terrible anger blazed to life, raging against his chest like an inferno of Fiendfyre. When this Petrification wore off… oh man, Draco was in for a world of pain.
"But it's alright… Starting today, I no longer have to endure your sickening presence. I'm leaving, you see. And I'm not coming back," Draco continued, sticking a hand inside of his robes to retrieve a crude-looking syringe. It looked considerably bigger than most Harry had seen in his life. "The Dark Lord has entrusted me with a very special task. A task that I intend to see through."
Draco's lips curled into a wicked grin as he got down on one knee next to Harry, syringe held firmly in hand.
"Just need… a little bit of this…" he muttered to himself as he pulled on Harry's robes, exposing his skin to the elements. And then… he plunged the needle directly into Harry's neck.
W-What the…?! Harry silently screamed as the sharp stab of pain coursed through his veins. What is Draco doing?!
Pulling on the handle, Draco extracted enough blood to fill the entire chamber, before violently yanking the syringe back again, causing the needle to break off. The small piece of metal remained stuck in Harry's skin as Draco got back to his feet.
"Very nice," he remarked, looking down at his handywork with pride. "I think I prefer you and your Mudblood friends like this, Potter. Unable to talk and share your stupid fucking opinions with anyone else."
"Hnghhh…" Neville forced out. He could not articulate specific words, but the sentiment behind it came out crystal-clear – Neville was furious. So furious, he could scarcely contain it. Harry had no doubt the Gryffindor boy would have gone straight for Malfoy's throat, had he been able to move.
"Oh, look. The brave lion is attempting to speak," Draco mocked, moving over to Neville's stiff form. "I wonder what he wants to say. Maybe he's asking for his mommy and daddy to come save him. But then again…"
The smug expression on his face grew several magnitudes more pronounced at his next few words.
"… your parents can't even save themselves now, can they?"
If looks could kill, the one Neville sent Draco at that moment surely would have done the job. It was a look of such animosity, such pure hatred that it gave even the usually snarky Malfoy heir pause.
"E-Either way," Draco continued after a moment of silence, doing his best to appear unfazed. "I believe we are done here. You two."
He pointed at the Death-Eaters.
"Take these three out into the woods and Obliviate them. Then take Potter with you back to-… well, you know where. The Dark Lord is going to deal with him personally."
A spark of desperation flared up in Harry's mind. He still couldn't move so much as a muscle – the Petrification spell was unusually strong – which meant he wouldn't be able to stop the Death-Eaters from harming his friends. They would be Obliviated, and he would be… well, killed.
I need to do something… Anything… If only I could get my… damn… arms… to…
Struggling against the spell, he fought its influence as best he could. But alas, it was simply too powerful. His body remained frozen, no matter how badly he tried to move it.
"Be seeing you real soon, Potter," Draco grinned. "And thank you for such a lovely afternoon. We truly should do this again sometime… assuming the Dark Lord does not kill you as soon as he lays eyes on you."
And then… he was gone. In the blink of an eye, Draco had disapparated, leaving behind nothing but a flurry of snowflakes. How he had managed it, Harry had no clue. Maybe he'd hidden away a portkey in his robe pocket or… something. Either way, the blonde-haired Slytherin had disappeared, without so much as a single glance offered to his petrified date, who was laying with her face down in the snow a couple of feet away.
For a minuscule moment, the Death-Eaters remained where they stood, as if hesitant at the prospect of taking orders from a Fourth-Year schoolboy. Ultimately though, Draco's suggestions had been logical, and so they moved to follow his bidding regardless.
J-JUST… MOVE… ALREADY!
Willing his all into the attempt, Harry made one last Herculean effort to break the spell placed upon him. It did not budge.
"Let's grab the kids and get out of here," one of the Death-Eaters grumbled beneath his mask.
"Agreed. Wouldn't want to keep the Dark Lord waiting," the other nodded. "We ought to-…"
He did not get to say much more than that, however, as an icy tendril of frost suddenly sprung to life from the snow beneath him, coiling and twisting itself around his leg. The suddenness of the attack knocked the Death-Eater off-balance, making him lose his footing. He promptly fell onto his backside with a soft thud.
"H-Huh?!" the first Death-Eater remarked, before he too found himself with a pair of icy vines encircling his lower half. "What the hell?!"
"Stupefy!"
The incantation, spoken in a feminine voice, rang out loud and clear from somewhere near the entrance to the alley. A second later, two blue orbs of energy came swirling past the group of petrified students, before colliding with the Death Eaters head-on. Their surprised hollering came to an abrupt end as the spell promptly knocked them both unconscious.
What…? Harry blinked. W-Who was it that…?
Forcing his eyes as far to the side as they would go, he just about managed to make out the contours of a brown-haired female witch, standing some distance away with her wand outstretched.
Hermione!
"For goodness sake… I leave you lot alone for 10 minutes, and you go and get yourselves ambushed," she sighed, before turning to the side and uttering a silent incantation to herself. A translucent otter soon sprung from the tip of her wand, leaving behind a trail of silvery mist as it went.
"Go inform Professor Dumbledore about this immediately," she told the otter, which was bouncing up and down with excitement. "Tell him where to find us, and to alert the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as quickly as possible. And to bring Madam Pomfrey as well. We might need her."
The otter gave an enthusiastic nod, before spring-boarding off a nearby wall and taking off down the street. It encountered no resistance from the bitter wind and harsh chill – it was incorporeal, after all, and thus could not be affected by the elements. Or gravity, for that matter.
Hermione watched it go with a conflicted expression on her face, before turning and walking over to Harry's unmoving form. A quick look at his frozen features was all she needed to assess the damage.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Within seconds, feeling started returning to Harry's body, allowing him to move his arms and legs again. Tiny pinpricks of discomfort blanketed every inch of his skin, but he forced himself to his feet either way.
A hundred thoughts and questions ran through his head. He wanted to ask her how she had found them, and why she was even here in the first place. If she'd seen any other Death Eaters on her way here. But for now, there was only a single thing that truly mattered.
"It's him, Hermione," Harry breathed as he locked eyes with his partner. "It's Voldemort. He's back, and he has my blood."
Malfoy Manor
A tense silence ruled in the grand room that housed the Dark Lord beneath Malfoy Manor. The darkened cobblestone floor and mahogany walls stifled most of the light that dared venture forth from the torches set along the walls, and the lack of any real furniture contributed to a barren and desolate backdrop that was only made all the more bleak by the swirling mass of black ink taking up space in the middle.
Ten wizards dressed in velvet ceremonial robes surrounded the shifting clot of energy, all sitting on their knees as if locked in prayer. They were not much to look at – their bodies were frail and weak, as the spirit had been steadily draining them of their life for the past half-month. Smudges of dried blood stained the flooring beneath them.
At the other end of the room, a communion of Death Eaters stood gathered, their faces hidden away beneath ivory masks. Their eyes were locked on the hulking form of a grey-furred man as he approached the floating spirit.
"For you who is about to rise again," he grumbled. "Take nourishment in the souls of the deceased, and drink deep of your enemies' blood."
Holding up his hands, he produced two items for the spirit to take: a crude-looking artefact that resembled a rough slab of obsidian stone, and a large syringe filled with red liquid.
"This, I offer freely, for I am ever your servant."
For a brief moment, nothing moved. A primal silence lingered, as if hesitant to give way. Then… the two items started floating, away from the wolf-man and his grotesque hands. They hovered between them for a bit, before being submerged in the roiling mass of ebony.
Another moment of silence. Then…
A heartbeat, emanating from the floating spirit, its solemn vibration signaling the coming of the ruination, of the tainted and the blackened.
An indescribable fear filled the hearts of the gathered. Hideous knowledge crawled its way across their minds. The weight of their transgression settled.
As the man took a step back, the sacrificial wizards gathered around the spirit started crying out in agony. Their screams rose to unbearable heights, the shadow of madness running rampant behind their eyes. And then, an appalling crack - loud as thunder - as their jaws were dislodged in unison, bent open by forces invisible to man. Contorted by wickedness, their blood started draining through widened mouths, crimson tendrils of liquid rising from their bodies to merge around the spirit.
A thumping sound filled the room as the blood started mixing with the ghostly substance. Waves of energy pulsed from the center of it, each rhythmic beat accompanied by a shrill scream of pain, emanating from the man… nay, creature, that was taking shape in its midst.
Suddenly, a sickening squelch went up from the now frozen sacrificial wizards as their skin started peeling off. In a matter of seconds, all ten men were robbed of their bodies, as their very flesh was torn from their bones, soaring forwards to circle around the spirit. The gore shifted into a tornado-like gust, with bits and pieces of flesh and muscle merging together into a new shape. A new form.
A new body.
Somewhere in the back of the room, Crabbe Senior bent over and retched, his bearded face drenched in sweat. Another man soon joined him, and together, the two emptied the contents of their stomachs out onto the stone floor. The resulting aroma caused several other Death Eaters to do the same, their vomit spilling out from behind their masks.
This is hell, Lucius Malfoy thought to himself as he watched the men gag and heave. This is hell, and we walked willingly into it.
A resounding boom brought his attention back to the center of the room again, where the flesh-tornado had started slowing down its rotation. The decrease in speed allowed him a better look at the thing inside, and the only word that came to mind was… monstruous.
The creature that emerged from the red mist looked like a crude imitation of a human being. A patchwork of flesh-chunks held together by nothing but threads of muscle fiber, it took a single, staggering step towards the group, who instinctively backed away from its hideous visage.
"Thrrruuuun…" it groaned through its half-mouth, eliciting gasps from the onlookers. As they watched, though, the creature slowly began to morph, its body parts shifting and moving until they settled into a more recognizable pattern – one of a young male adult.
Black hair sprouted from its head, growing to form a healthy mane of black locks. Sharp features carved themselves into the flesh-clay, revealing a surprisingly handsome face - one that was strikingly familiar to several of the gathered.
Before they had the chance to look upon him more, however, he morphed once again, changing back into shadow. The pool of black coiled and twisted, before shooting off across the room, directly towards one of the Death Eaters. A sharp gasp went up from the man, before the liquid shadow slipped past his mask and into his mouth, filling him from the inside-out.
"What is happening?!" a voice called out. The owner of it was swiftly brought to silence, however, as they all waited with bated breaths to see what had transpired.
"AhHArGhHuUgHhh…" the affected Death Eater groaned, before going still.
A tense lull befell the room.
"M-Master…?" someone eventually asked.
"Yees…" the Death Eater replied. "Yeeees…"
Tearing off his mask, he revealed his face to the others. It was Lucius Malfoy, except… his eyes were different.
Where there had once been twin pools of stormy-grey, there was now… emerald green.
"It is me," Lucius said, though his voice sounded different. Higher in pitch, and less mocking in tone. Almost serene, in fact. "Your Master. I have returned."
Within moments, the room erupted into a cacophony of sounds.
"L-Lord Voldemort!"
"You're back!"
"It's r-really you, isn't it?!"
"Master!"
"Quiet." Voldemort said. And quiet, the room went. "I have returned, it's true. And yet… I confess myself disappointed."
The roiling pressure lay palpable in the air as the Dark Lord swept his eyes across the room.
"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! And I ask myself… Why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
No one spoke. They wouldn't dare to, not with the Dark Lord present and in their midst.
"And I answer myself," Voldemort continued. "They must have thought me gone. They must have slipped back among my enemies, and pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment… But then, how could they have believed I would not rise again?"
There was no reply. Shame and guilt mixed with fear was all there was to be given.
"Disappointing. Truly disappointing."
Voldemort allowed them to feel the full weight of his presence for a bit, before his eyes landed on an open space - large enough for two people - that separated Avery and the next man.
"The Lestranges should stand here," he said quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to their doom rather than renounce me… When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges shall be honored. The dementors will join us, I am sure. They are our natural allies… And we shall recall the banished giants as well… I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me."
Shaking his head, he broke free of the momentary reverie and shifted his gaze back to the crowd.
"As you are undoubtedly aware, I made a… most unfortunate mistake 14 years ago," he started, his serene voice carrying far and wide throughout the chamber. "A prophecy had been brought to my attention, you see. A prophecy foretelling the birth of a certain child, one that could potentially grow up to rival me in earnest one day."
The silence that followed the statement was deafening. The Dark Lord spoke, and his people listened. Such was the way of things, as much now as it had ever been. Fourteen years of absence had not changed that.
"You all know of whom I speak. The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."
The uncomfortable hush that permeated the room grew ever denser at the mention of that name. Tense stares were exchanged, as unspoken words drifted between them all.
"It's ironic, really," Voldemort continued, a trace of predatory humor flashing across his emerald eyes. "By going after the Potter boy, I inadvertently set about fulfilling the very prophecy I wanted to avoid. Well, at least to a certain extent."
Nobody else present seemed to find that particular factoid especially funny.
"In the time since, I've been living in… the strangest dream," he said, growing thoughtful for a moment. "A dream that went on for a very, very long time. I won't bore you with the details… in fact, I'm quite sure you wouldn't be able to comprehend it regardless. But the point is this; the dream gave me a lot of time to think. Think on the past, the present… the future. And I have arrived at a conclusion."
"… A-And what conclusion is that, my Lord?" Avery eventually asked, once it became clear that his Master had no intention on continuing unless someone spoke up.
"Ahh, I'm glad you asked, my friend," Voldemort smiled. It was a smile entirely devoid of warmth and kinship. "Starting today, we shall strive for control first and foremost. Revenge shall become a secondary objective."
There was a prolonged silence following his statement.
"Wait…" Brandon Goyle muttered from beneath his mask. "You're telling us that… you're giving up on killing Harry Potter?"
"Who said anything about giving up?" Voldemort asked, turning to look at the man. "I merely stated that, as of now, it shall not be our main concern."
"But… But that's just… You can't just…" Goyle continued, surprise evident in his tone. "Harry Potter has to die! He killed you! You can't let him get away with that!"
"Hmm…" Voldemort said, before raising a lazy finger in Goyle's general direction. A moment later, the man's ribcage burst open in a shower of blood, spraying the floor with bits of flesh and gore. Panicked shouts went up from the people gathered around him, some of whom had been hit with soft bits of human debris.
"I've no room in my ranks for people who do not listen when I speak," he said. "And Goyle was living on borrowed time. He believed me broken… believed me dead. He pleaded bewitchment when questioned, denounced me and my name until his lungs gave out, and broke his oath of loyalty. For that, he pays with his life."
A wet gurgle went up from Goyle's throat, before he tipped over and fell. Lord Voldemort promptly shifted his focus back to Avery again.
"We have a new agenda. The Ministry shall fall. Control shall be ours."
"Y-Y-Yes, Master…" Avery whispered. "Anything for you, Master…"
"Precisely," Voldemort smiled, before turning to look at his other followers. "I trust the rest of you understand my words better than Goyle did?"
A round of tense nods and acknowledgements went up from the crowd.
"Good, good… Then let us begin our march in earnest. Before long, all of Britain shall kneel. And those who do not… well, there are worse things under heaven and earth than death."
A/N: Phew... What a chapter.
I apologize for my lengthy absence. My original plan was to have this chapter out by the start of December, but alas, things did not work out that way. I've struggled back and forth with this thing so much, you'd scarcely believe it. Large portions of it have been rewritten at least twice, and Voldemort's dialogue in the final segment has seen three separate iterations, the first two being before I decided to include portions of the Canon graveyard scene.
And the funny thing is... I'm still not entirely happy with how the chapter turned out. But I cannot keep stressing over it indefinitely - you guys deserve to have something to read, and I deserve some peace of mind.
There's a chance I may come back and rewrite some of it later, though. When I've cleared my mind, and it's not so fresh. Because right now, I honestly can't even tell if it's good anymore - all I know is that I need to publish it before I go crazy.
So, that's Act 3 over. With the next chapter, we'll be moving into Act 4, which is the penultimate act of "The Crimson Sorcerer". A lot of stuff is going to happen in Act 4. A lot of fun stuff. And weird. There'll definitely be some weird.
I hope you guys remain excited about the story, though. It can sometimes feel like I'm shouting words into the void with this thing, so any kind of engagement from you would be greatly appreciated, whether that's through a review or a simple Follow / Favorite. I read each and every notification, so don't be shy - I don't bite. At least not hard.
So yeah. I guess that's it. I hope you enjoyed Act 3, and look forward to reading more. In the meantime, I'll be here, finishing my Harry Potter marathon (I'm rewatching the movies in time for the Holidays) and playing Dwarf Fortress (since I already finished GOW: Ragnarok). And maybe even writing a bit, who knows?
Twisted out.