Disclaimer: I don't own any characters blah blah blah owned by JK Rowling blah blah blah don't sue me.
Summary: There is nothing better than when a plan works out exactly as you expected, without having to resort to Plan B.
Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.
"My Lord…" he choked, "my Lord… you promised… you did promise…"
"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.
"Oh Master… thank you, Master…"
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.
"The other arm, Wormtail."
"Master, please… please…"
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo — a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.
"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it . . . and now, we shall see . . . now we shall know . . ."
Voldemort paused, looking down at the Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm.
"On second thought, they can wait. Wormtail - get the potion."
"My Lord, w-which one?" the rat-like man choked, breath catching on a sob.
"Crucio!" Voldemort screeched, holding the man under the Unforgivable until he screamed in pain as shudders wracked his body.
After he stopped casting the curse, it took a minute before the tremors lessened enough for Wormtail to stand.
Harry watched him scuttle over to one of the headstones, returning moments later with a vial.
His stomach sank when he saw the contents.
He may not have been the best at Potions (a statement he knew Snape would be quick to agree with), but he was in trouble if his guess was correct.
Voldemort strolled over to the headstone keeping him captive upon finishing his examination of the contents.
"I am going to enjoy this about as much as you will hate it," he declared, red eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Harry thought the sight of the snake-like visage twisted in what could be considered a genuine smile was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen as the pale wand rose, pointing directly at his forehead.
Potter's supporters went wild when he appeared in front of the crowd, the Goblet clutched tightly in his right hand. He also seemed to have brought Diggory (though the Hufflepuff was unconscious at best).
There was a scream, and Severus whipped his head around, wand falling into his hand, searching for the threat to the students-
It was Ms Delacour. Following her gaze, he looked back at Potter and Diggory, who hadn't moved in the few seconds since they'd exited the maze. In fact…
People were realising. Some started crying, wailing, and other overt shows of emotions. Others seemed to be blaming Potter ("Look at him. He's standing there beside Cedric's dead body with a blank face." "He's probably in shock - he's only fourteen." "Mark my words: it was him.")
Severus sneered. Potter was an arrogant, lazy boy, but he'd stake his wand that the boy wasn't capable of murder.
Well…
Deliberate murder.
In self-defence…
Probably.
"It was Sirius Black," Potter announced, silencing the crowd as effortlessly as if he'd cast a non-verbal Silencio.
He gritted his teeth.
Black!
He'd been responsible for the death of his former best friend (he ignored the voice in his head saying he's as responsible as you are), had been helped in his escape from custody by Potter last year (I bet he's regretting that now, he thought spitefully), and had murdered a child in cold blood a year later.
If he ever saw that mutt… Dementors wouldn't be needed after he was finished with Black. He'd have his revenge, and no one could say anything against him.
He vaguely noticed that four people stood out from the rest of the spectators.
Granger and Youngest Boy Weasley had expressions of disbelief and/or horror, the Headmaster looked calculating, and Moody seemed… gleeful? Probably wanting to come out of retirement to go hunting Black, he thought, dismissing the feeling of unease. The rest waited eagerly for the tale.
Heartless gossips, the lot of them, Severus thought viciously; a child was dead, a second one was probably in shock after witnessing the death of a classmate, and all they could think about was having something new to tell their friends.
"He bragged about how he managed to sneak onto the grounds of the castle using secret passages (apparently, Honeydukes shop is linked to somewhere in the castle by one) and turned the Goblet into a Portkey. When Cedric and I grabbed it simultaneously, it brought us to a sandy beach. There was a lit cauldron and a Grim. I was more surprised when the animal turned into a human," Potter continued.
He was grinding his teeth. He needed to kick that habit soon, especially since his Dark Mark was as black as it had been before that Halloween.
Pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. He recalled how the Marauders had nicknames for each other - Lupin was Moony (a thin disguise for his "condition"), and Black had been Padfoot - a dog.
Pettigrew had been Wormtail, so… a mouse? Rat? Worm? Some other insignificant animal? Potter Sr had been Prongs… maybe a buck, hart, or stag?
"I'd guess that Sirius Black's Animagus form may have helped him escape from Azkaban almost two years previously. Regardless, he's an unregistered one - Hermione looked up the Animagus registry last year out of curiosity, and didn't see his name on the list."
"He disarmed us, tied us up, and said we'd been brought to help with his potion, which needed the blood of two virgin males who had proven themselves in front of an audience of their peers," Potter described.
Severus tuned out (though the teen seemed to have paused then, so he mightn't miss out on much), mentally running through the list of potions needing that ingredient. There were a few Ancient Egyptian ones concerning vengeance and betrayal, a Roman one for fertility… that didn't mean that the famed Black library mightn't contain countless other potions, unknown outside of the family, which might have any number of purposes.
"Unfortunately for Cedric, he told the maniac he wasn't a virgin - sorry Cho, since I'm presuming it was you. Black lost it - he started blowing things up, screaming about months of wasted time and preparation. Then he cast the K-Killing C-C-Curse at Cedric," Potter said, still without any emotion in his voice despite the stuttering.
(He didn't feel empathy for a child murderer.)
(He didn't sympathise with the annoyance Black would have felt to have a potion ruined by a spoiled ingredient.)
"I never wanted to be in this Tournament. Minister, you can give the prize money to Mr and Mrs Diggory. Don't try to give it to me - I'll only give it to the Merpeople or a random person I come across," Potter announced, gaze finally moving from its fixed focus on the ground before him.
"Well - that's - yes - do you -" Fudge spluttered, bowler hat clasped in his hand as he tried to form a complete sentence.
"That's very generous of Mr Potter, as I'm sure everyone can agree. Minister, perhaps you'd like to arrange the details of the funeral with the Diggorys - if you wish to host it here, you need only ask," said Dumbledore, eyes having lost their customary twinkle, "In the meantime, could Professors McGonagall, Moody and Snape accompany Mr Potter and me up to my office? I could do with a spot of tea."
Severus started walking over to the Headmaster, as did Minerva and Moody, but he noticed the boy didn't.
"Could we go somewhere closer, Professor? I was bitten by the Acromantula in the maze, and I don't think my leg will survive going up all the stairs," Potter enquired as he limped slowly closer. He glanced quickly at the boy's leg, seeing the offending injury. It didn't look infected, so he'd survive for a bit longer.
(Good, thought one part of his mind.)
(Not good, thought another part.)
Severus noticed the crowd had ignored their little group easily - a bit too easily.
Dumbledore had probably cast a Notice-Me-Not.
"Now Harry-".
"Albus, you can't be expecting him to walk up all those stairs with one leg not in top form," Moody declared, one eyebrow on the scarred face raised.
(He would deny agreeing with the former Auror until his dying breath.)
"I apologise, Alastor, Harry - I should have considered that you might sustain an injury at some point," Dumbledore capitulated, starting the trip from the Quidditch Pitch back to the castle, "I know of an abandoned classroom not far from the Entrance Hall we can go to instead."
"Thank you, Professor - that would be perfect," Potter responded, already at the back of the procession. Moody dropped back to keep pace with the boy as Severus and Minerva caught up with the Headmaster.
At one point, looking back when they were almost at the castle, he could have sworn the retired Auror was… deferring to the boy.
He quickly dismissed it as a flight of fancy, even as his instincts whispered.
They were all in the previously mentioned classroom a few minutes later, Dumbledore shutting the door behind the boy when he limped in and casting a variety of spells on it.
The Headmaster sighed quietly (Severus only heard it due to his proximity) before he turned to face them.
"Harry, m'boy-"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
He drew his wand as Potter and Moody cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore and Minerva respectively. He didn't - couldn't - allow himself to grieve the sudden death of two of his colleagues, attention focused on the two attackers.
At least one was under a compulsion - he knew Potter would never cast a Killing Curse, never mind sending one at Dumbledore.
Moody could kill, but he couldn't think of anything Minerva might have done to drive the former Auror to kill her.
Based on that conclusion, the spell he sent at the boy was one to incapacitate, switching his attention to the bigger threat in the room.
A few seconds later, Severus was surprised to find himself disarmed, tied up and silenced by Potter, who wasn't as incapacitated as he should have been.
"Severus, my slippery follower. I confess myself… disappointed that you couldn't recognise your Lord when he stands before you, regardless of what disguise he might be wearing," said the person who probably wasn't Potter.
A few things clicked in his mind.
The missing ingredients, which were used to make Polyjuice Potion.
"...recognise your Lord when he stands in front of you…"
The Dark Lord.
He didn't even have his Occlumency shields fully up.
Severus tried to raise them surreptitiously, locking away any memories showing his true loyalties.
He wasn't careful enough.
"Potter's" eyes narrowed.
"Legilimens!"
He tried to retreat behind his shields, reinforce them to keep his former Lord out. However, the man sent a large force of magic into his mind, shattering all his hastily erected shields, and there was nothing he could do except watch as all of his memories were examined, every detail dissected.
He knew he would die soon when he felt the force leave his mind.
The only question would be how much pain he'd experience before he was killed.
"I find myself… disappointed in how fickle your loyalty is, Severus," "Potter" declared, "I even gave the mudblood three chances to step aside, but she wouldn't."
"How disappointed you must be," Severus sneered, past caring what happened to him. He was finally getting to tell the monster the truth, and he would savour it for the few moments he had left.
"To have been defeated by a "mere" muggleborn. How it must have galled you to be reduced to a wraith for a decade by someone you barely considered to be a witch."
"Crucioi!" screeched "Moody" (he was almost certain that wasn't the real Moody) a second before his world disappeared into pain.
When it lifted - minutes? seconds? hours? - later, "Moody" laughing all the while, tremors wracked his body from the aftereffects of the spell.
"I'd say I'll miss you, but Potion Masters aren't as rare as you may think," "Potter" declared, walking (how did I not notice he was barefoot from when he appeared in front of the spectators? he distractedly thought) towards his crumpled form on the floor.
Still feeling the Cruciatus' effects, Severus only had time to mentally apologise to Lily for not protecting her son before he heard a cry of "Avada Kedavra!" and he knew no more.
It didn't take much effort for him to win after that.
After they'd killed the old fool, McGonagall, and the traitor (the unfortunate secretary who'd been giving her report shrieked under the Cruciatus he cast at the thought of the half-blood), his loyal follower had been allowed to amuse himself by chasing after all the people gathered at the Quidditch Pitch. Among those killed were many high-ranked Ministry officials, foreign delegates and students (some of the Durmstrang students had joined the ranks of his Death Eaters).
Lord Voldemort had quickly taken over the Ministry, his Inner Circle occupying the positions of Department Heads - after he'd thoroughly ensured their loyalty.
Those loyal to the old fool or disloyal to him had been purged from the country, and, despite how much satisfaction it may have given him to kill Potter, he'd remembered how well his previous attempts had gone.
Instead, he'd ordered all his followers to cast Crucio on Potter simultaneously, holding it for as long as possible. Of course, Lord Voldemort's spell had continued long after the others faltered, with Bellatrix's lasting over half as long as his.
Once the boy had been suitably loosened up, a group casting of the Memory Charm had wiped Potter's mind of everything - how to speak, move, swallow, stand, walk, breathe…
Potter had asphyxiated three minutes later, and, just like that, the Boy Who Lived lived no more, leaving Lord Voldemort to get on with remaking magical Britain to his preferences.
On the losing side, it was torture.
On Lord Voldemort's side, all was well.
(Apart from frequent Crucios for no reason.)
(And living under constant fear.)
(The constant screams from the cells weren't great either.)
(Neither were-)
"What are you doing? Avada Kedavra!"
Críochnaithe
(A.N:
…
Yeah.
I wrote that… for some reason.
*blinks* *shrugs*
Moving on.)
Happy Halloween/Samhain/Bealtaine/something. This isn't exactly Halloween-related, but I thought I might as well celebrate the night everything went wrong for Voldy by posting something where everything went right.