CHAPTER 85: Checkmate (Part 5)

The Austrian Alps

April 23rd, 1996

11:45 p.m.

As midnight came nearer with every passing minute, Lord Voldemort soared through the skies of the Austrian Alps. It was the fifth continuous night he had scoured through the mountains, using what little time he had to find the legendary Nurmengard Castle. But the castle was built with stone as dark as the night itself and had been built where only the light from the stars could reach it. But if Lord Voldemort was anything, he was a patient man. And if the furious thunderstorm above was any indication, this would be the night he'd be able to take advantage of the window.

When Gellert Grindelwald built his fortress, he had not done so mindlessly. Unlike Azkaban, the magic of the prison relied on the very foundation of its structure. There may not be any dementors to protect it, but that was rarely needed, given how the castle was only accessible for a short window of time - the fifteen minutes after midnight. It didn't simply become invisible - but intangible. As if it had never existed in the first place. Only to return to the very same spot twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes later. Anyone who was already inside the castle would be able to leave, but no one from outside could enter. Nurmengard Castle was a worthy accomplishment of Grindelwald. A display of the cleverness and the sheer power the man wielded in his prime. Or perhaps, a display of the power the Elder Wand granted him.

A brilliant flash of light suddenly struck down only a few feet in front of him, its roar shaking the earth around where it hit, but the Dark Lord easily evaded it and continued his pursuit.

Grindelwald's little stroke of brilliance had left him no choice other than to follow through with the monotonous task and manually narrow down the true location of the castle. Through nothing but research, he had managed to pin down the possible location of the castle within a two-hundred-mile radius deep within the region. By now he had covered most of that ground. There was no reason why he should not be able to find the castle tonight.

He continued patrolling the area, effortlessly dodging the storm the sky had deigned to rain down on him until he finally saw it. Lit up for a mere second, a wall of black that just barely reflected the lightning back to him. Voldemort immediately corrected his trajectory and headed straight toward the castle at an unfathomable speed. The closer he got to the fortress, the more lightning rained down on him. More sudden. More forceful. The bolts of lightning grew until they were nearly six inches in circumference. He swirled and dodged past without breaking a sweat, and when he found no obvious entrances to the castle he crashed directly into the wall.

Bricks were launched all over the hallway, and the entire fortress seemed to shake under his feet as he easily caught himself and began walking into the heart of the castle. Grindelwald's precise location was something only a select few people knew - and they had all given their freedom to remain at Nurmengard and guard Grindelwald. But that was of no matter. Having successfully breached the castle, there was no longer a need to rush.

He kept a slow yet steady pace, disposing of the guards who confronted him as he walked past empty cell after empty cell. It was only after he had climbed all the way up the tallest tower that he found the empty cell with the man he was looking for.

"Tom, I presume," Grindelwald said calmly, tilting his head and giving him a peculiar look.

"Tell me where it is, Grindelwald," Lord Voldemort hissed, and the surrounding air got just a little bit colder.

Grindelwald didn't say a word for a moment. He did nothing but stare into Voldemort's eyes. "It won't help you…"

"I will not ask again." Voldemort allowed his wand to fall to his hand as he maintained his eyes on Grindelwald.

"You shouldn't have come here, Tom," a calm voice spoke from behind him. Voldemort immediately turned and faced the old man in front of him. Albus Dumbledore looked older than the last time he had seen him. And though his face held more wrinkles and his hands looked more skeletal, magic still radiated from him in a way that made it expressly clear he was still a formidable wizard.

Voldemort threw out his hand, pushing Dumbledore back - nearly managing to topple him - as he slashed his wand at the same time. Bricks from all around the old man began launching themselves at him, but when they hit their target they were launched back with twice the amount of ferocity, forcing Voldemort to place a hasty shield that dissolved the ones heading his way. After the three projectiles had been nullified, Voldemort pulled back his shield and looked up to see the large waves of water that Dumbledore had managed to conjure.

They were flying, surrounding Dumbledore, shielding him in a spiral before the old man jammed his wand in the air, and it flew towards Voldemort. Voldemort pushed his hand up, quickly stopping the wave mid-air as he used his wand to launch a barrage of killing curses at the man. But Dumbledore summoned bricks from the wall to parry the curses before hurling some of his own toward him. Voldemort blocked them with his wand hand, still keeping half of his attention on the wave he held in his grasp - slowly freezing it into pure ice - and between small gaps that betrayed Dumbledore's fatigue, Voldemort created two chains that sprung down from the ceiling. The first one grabbed Dumbledore's hand, but the old man immediately snapped his fingers and it disappeared. He used his second hand to intercept the other chain and banish it toward him.

Voldemort managed to alter its course, but it crashed into the ice, chipping off a small part of it. Not that it mattered, with the wave fully frozen Voldemort used his hand to animate it, and before Dumbledore could react the snake roared, whipping its tail at him only to somehow go through Dumbledore - as if the man wasn't even standing there. It pierced the wall, sending dozens of bricks plummeting down into the abyss. Using its head, the snake tore through the other wall, breaking out of the prison through the ceiling. It continued to cause mayhem, launching its tail at Dumbledore until half of the tower had been destroyed, including Grindelwald's cell.

And just as it was about to attempt another strike, a red bird flew through the sky, putting itself between the flying ice snake and Dumbledore before a wave of fire erupted from it. Voldemort easily shielded himself from it, but the animation had been completely destroyed. And what little pieces remained of it plummeted to the foot of the mountain.

Voldemort put down his shield and turned to Dumbledore and Grindelwald. The tower began crumbling, a large crack tearing through the ground, marking a clear separation between both parties. Voldemort's eyes went from Dumbledore to Grindelwald, and then back to Dumbledore one more time.

"This is a war you cannot win."

"It's not going to be me who wins it," Dumbledore said.

There was a loud crack, the enchantments of the castle began to fail as it switched between being visible and invisible. And before the tower could fall, Voldemort turned into a cloud of black smoke and shot through the night sky with Britain in his sights.

Great Hangleton

April 24th

5:30 p.m.

When Bedivere had first come to him all those months ago, talking about hunting down the pieces of Voldemort's soul and finishing the war, Harry had pictured many things. He would leave Hogwarts, with Pansy and Theo tagging along, and they would spend the next few years - maybe even a whole decade - adventuring through the whole world. They would meet Merlin, somehow still alive, who would teach them all this mysterious power to defeat Voldemort. They would search through abandoned Egyptian tombs and raided Greek temples for the Horcuxes (Voldemort did have a weird kink for the Greek gods). And through it all, the Death Eaters would be hunting them down, leading to apocalyptic-level battles that would become famous paintings centuries from now. Only for them to succeed at the final moment, kill Voldemort and finally be recognised for who he was while Longbottom faded into the background.

Alright, maybe he'd read a few too many fantasy books when he was a kid. But he was a wizard, for fuck's sake. At least he should have been seeing some amazing magic somewhere. But instead, he had been going from town to town making an idiot of himself, wasting his time, all while he was being hunted by drunk low-level murderers instead of Voldemort's top lieutenants. And sure, everyone now knew him. Harry 'Serial Killer' Potter. Every year, he had thought his Potter luck couldn't keep getting worse. And every year he was surprised.

They'd left early today. Harry had just managed to make himself scrambled eggs and a nice cup of tea before Kieran came barging in through the floo, telling him it was time to leave. Harry had been forced to wolf down his breakfast in less than a minute and transfigure his clothes while he was still wearing them right as Kieran grabbed his arm and apparated the two of them out of there. Perhaps before, he would have considered saving his magic in case anything bad happened. But the worst thing that had happened in the past week and a half had been when Kieran and he had spooked a bloody pigeon by loudly apparating a few feet below it, leading it to shit on Harry's face while Kieran got to laugh - completely untouched by pigeon shit.

His bloody Potter luck. Harry would rather go through ten more torture sessions with Montague than get shit on by a pigeon again. Torture wasn't nearly as humiliating.

Thankfully, nothing so bad had happened today. He'd ambled around the middle of Great Tangleton - or whatever this stupid little town was called - following Kieran around as they asked anyone (everyone!) about muggle Voldemort.

"Excuse me, sir," Kieran would say, using his stupid posh voice. "Would you happen to know someone with the surname Riddle?"

The man, who would usually either be drunk, half-asleep, or wishing he could throw a few quid their way just to get them to leave, would blink. "Just a couple… hundred."

"Tom. Tom Riddle. Do you know someone of that name?"

The man would blink again.

"Right. Tom. Common name."

Needless to say, their trips usually ended up at the library, where they would end up looking for records of people who were named Tom Riddle in the 30s, and see if they matched something. So yeah. That was their big quest. And Harry couldn't help but wish for anything else. Why fight monsters and learn new, cool powers from people all over the world when he could be a glorified ONS intern, just crossing off the names of the dead or insignificant Tom Riddles before they finally got to the one who would murder the entire world?

"This is useless," Harry said, shutting the large book in front of him with enough force to shake the table. "We're not getting anywhere with this."

"You volunteered," Kieran drawled.

"Yeah, because I didn't think it would mean… this."

Kieran rolled his eyes, looking so much like Pansy for a moment, before going back to his book and acting as if he wasn't even there. Harry scoffed and said, "I need some air," before pushing through the library doors and heading outside.

He'd only been in Great Mangleton for a few hours, and he already hated it. It reeked of piss and looked like someone had pressed pause way back in the fifties. Hadn't even bothered to give it a good wipedown. Even the sky looked brown. The people didn't help either. Boring and soulless. It was a retirement home for the failures time forgot. There was no spark of life in this place. All of it just made him feel unclean. If there was a hell, it wouldn't be eternal torture. It would be this.

He walked down a couple of streets and before he knew it, he was entering a pub. It was packed, filled with breathing corpses. There was no talking. No music. Nothing but people picking up their glass, drinking, and settling it down. Harry sighed, getting a couple of drinks before sitting down all the way in the back. The chair's legs were uneven and the table was pressed so tightly against the wall Harry barely fit in, but it was the only free place left. And he doubted the librarian would look too kindly on him risking her precious books with filthy alcohol.

It took him only two minutes of drinking in silence, trying not to think about how the hell his life had ended up where it had before he felt like a moron for mocking all the other people in the room for doing just that. Great, he thought. Might as well house-hunt while I'm here.

Harry finished his two drinks. Then he finished the two he ordered after that. People came and went, and Harry kept drinking. Occasionally, he'd think about going back to the library. But then Kieran would just shout at him for getting drunk and probably snitch on him to Bedivere. By the eighth drink, he had accepted he was apparating back home on his own. And he did… after another two drinks.

It had been a long time since he'd drank so much, and his body knew it. He lost track of time. Even lost track of how many drinks he'd had. The next thing he knew he was on his knees, his face so deep in the toilet he could smell his own vomit only a few inches away. He groaned, forcing himself up before he flushed down the toilet and collapsed on the floor. Now he remembered why he had promised himself he wouldn't drink again in the first place.

The world kept spinning for a while, but eventually, it stopped somewhat, and Harry decided to take that as his cue before it suddenly came back again. After cleaning his face from the vomit residue and mentally preparing himself, he came out of the bathroom only to immediately stop. The pub was empty. Chairs scattered, tables flipped over. It looked like there had been a stampede that made everyone run for their lives. Not even the bartender remained. And then he saw them.

"I told you I saw him," one of them said. The tall one. "It's that Potter boy."

"We can all see him, you bellend," another replied.

Oh, great. I have fans now.

"What-" his body forced a burp out. "Who are you, morons?"

"You killed our friend." The fat one said.

A sharp headache suddenly hit him, and a bit of vomit surged through his throat, but Harry managed to stop it midway. "I don't suppose I can ask for a rain check, can I?"

One of the men yelled, and Harry's arms acted on their own. He managed to put up a shield right as the curse was about to hit him. It stopped the curse, but the shield broke and launched him backward. He crashed against the wall, hitting his head in the process and sending the entire room on its head. Everything was spinning, but Harry still picked himself up. Even the homeless one can break my shield now! Come on!

Harry launched a set of blasting curses at everyone, but he was so hammered they all missed their targets, only succeeding in scaring them enough to seek cover. Still better than anyone at Hogwarts, Harry reminded himself. If anything was going to keep him on his feet, it would be his pride. The men began peering from behind the tables they'd used as cover, so before they could do anything Harry pushed the door of the bathroom open and threw himself inside. It should buy him a minute at most, but it was all he had.

Alright. You got this. No apparition, you'd end up splinching your whole body across Britain. No curses, your aim is shit when you're drunk. I could bring the building down on them. No, not enough power. Maybe Kieran can help. These guys are idiots. Kieran is too. How about getting really close? I can't miss if I'm-

The door suddenly exploded, smoke and dust filling the void it had left. He'd run out of time.

Running? He blinked. Yeah, not a chance.

Harry pulled himself up just in time to see a shadow through the smoke creeping in slowly. Cursing his own stupidity, Harry closed his eyes and jumped. He hadn't realised just how much force he had jumped with until he crashed against the guy and sent the two of them toppling down to the ground. Harry immediately identified the tall man's wand arm and pressed his own wand to it. "Expulso!" The curse was far from powerful enough, but it did what Harry wanted it to, bending the man's arm backward until the bone came out.

The image was gruesome, and though he had been used to gory stuff like that, the vomit he felt in his throat didn't help. Thankfully, his attention was drawn to the other three men who were training their wands on Harry. He managed to roll out of the way, but as he was leaping over the bar, he felt a searing pain all over his arm and lost his balance. He landed roughly on the floor, his head barely missing the glass rail holding all the bottles. Hearing the other men rush towards him, Harry ignored the pain as he crawled to where the sound was coming from until his wand was pointed just slightly below the bar. And sure enough, a big fat face suddenly appeared.

"Stupefy!"

The spell didn't fully knock out the man, only left him dazed. But with his two friends helping him, Harry took the opportunity to run out of the pub and into the street. Okay, so maybe he had ended up running in the end. It was already late, with only the street lights lighting the roads. The library was only a couple of streets away, so Harry began launching curses all over the place, hitting trees, houses, and buildings alike, all in the hope of getting Kieran's attention.

"Get him!" Harry heard from behind him but didn't try to turn and see how far they were.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes brightened, and a small smile came over him. Harry turned the corner but instead of continuing running, he stuck to the wall and used the shadows to hide. His attacker's sounds kept getting closer and closer until one of them appeared right in front of the tip of his wand. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

The man crashed on the floor, thoroughly stunned, but the one behind him already had his wand trained on Harry. Oh, fuck me.

"Diffindo!"

His self-preservation kicked in, and even knowing the risk his body acted. Harry turned on the spot, disapparating right before the curse managed to hit him. But he was only gone for a moment, immediately appearing a few feet above the man. He landed on top of him, using his arms to cling to the man's neck. He could feel his legs. His arms. His face. Everything. It was all in place. Harry couldn't help but actually laugh at that. Then the dizziness hit him like a train, and before he knew it he had vomited all over the man.

The man screamed as if his vomit was made of acid. It had sent him into such a frenzy that he actually managed to launch Harry off his shoulders. And while the man was too busy trying to get all the vomit off his neck and clothes, Harry picked himself back up and used another three stunners on the man until he passed out cold.

He looked at the two men on the floor, turning his wand in his hand as he realised he hadn't killed any of them. Hadn't even thought about doing it. It gave him a strange feeling in his belly - one he hadn't felt before. And at that moment, he decided it didn't feel so bad. He smiled, if only slightly. He was still too tired, and way too drunk. And his magic was thoroughly worn out.

Harry looked at his shoulder where a long gash that covered all his tricep and climbed all the way up to his shoulder was slowly dripping blood onto his shirt. The adrenaline was beginning to fade, and the pain was starting to get worse. But he wasn't allowed to focus much on it as he began hearing cracking sounds nearby. At first, they were far away, he had barely heard them, but they were getting closer and closer.

"Search the town," a voice commanded - one that sounded too familiar. "Find any muggles who would have seen something."

Harry was painfully aware he was out in the open with a lot of people around him. There were few places he could go without being noticed. Maybe if he had managed to bring the invisibility cloak… His mind raced to find an answer before he heard footsteps only a few feet to his right. People were muttering. They must have spotted the bodies. The realisation came just as a man stepped around the corner and looked at him how Tom looked at Jerry when he had him backed up into a corner.

"Mister Potter," Rufus Scrimgeour said as two Aurors rushed to his side. "We're long overdue for a talk, don't you think?"

Azkaban Prison

April 25th, 1996

1:10 a.m.

Barty rushed onto the Dark Lord's floor, the tattoo on his right arm still burning from the cold. With the Dark Lord abroad and Barty's own quest with Harry, he hadn't been up here in a while, and everything was the same. For the most part. The Dark Lord sat on his throne, Nagini coiling herself around the Dark Lord's arm in what felt like a protective embrace. The Dark Lord, for his part, wasn't paying much attention to her. His focus was on Barty… and the other Death Eaters that were on their knees in front of him.

"Ares," the Dark Lord called to him. "Join us."

Barty looked back at the Death Eaters, a small hesitation before he made his way across the room and knelt right beside the others. "You called, my Lord?"

"It's time," he said.

"Time?" Barty repeated.

"Longbottom has been primed. All the pieces are in place. We will take action now."

"My Lord… if I may… I thought we had agreed to wait until June at the earliest. Risking exposure is not wise."

"Your place here is not to be wise," Zeus said silkily. "Your place is to follow orders."

"My Lord," Barty continued as if Zeus hadn't spoken. "An undertaking of this magnitude… it's not one that should be rushed."

"And it will not be," the Dark Lord said emotionlessly. "But it cannot be put off any longer." He turned away from him and called out to Clotho. "The Department of Mysteries is your domain. You will allow us inside."

"I will, my Lord."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord nodded before turning back to Barty. "Ares, it is my wish that you lead this mission."

"When will it be, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord didn't respond immediately. He continued to stare at Barty, his face a mask of coldness. When he first met the Dark Lord, the action scared Barty. But after years of servitude, he recognised the action as the Dark Lord being deep in thought. "Seven days."

"That's… I'd need more time, my Lord. If you could allow me a couple of weeks. A month at most-"

"I volunteer to lead this mission," Zeus said loudly, earning the Dark Lord's attention.

"Very well," he eventually said. "Zeus will lead this mission. Ares, you will be his second in command."

"I will not fail you, my Lord."

"You won't," the Dark Lord said. And though the Dark Lord's voice always held the same tone, Barty could feel the threat behind his word.

The Dark Lord stood up and slowly made his way down from the throne, Nagini still clinging onto his arm. Barty bowed his head, as did all the other Death Eaters. They heard every step. Felt it. Their very heartbeat began to pound to the Dark Lord's beat. And when he finally reached the bottom, he went directly into the middle of the row.

"Artemis," he said. "Circe tells me the treatment has done its job. You're back to full strength."

"Ooooh yes," she giggled madly. "Back and ready to serve, my Lord. Ready for you. Anything for you."

The Dark Lord reached into his robes using the arm Nagini had clung to and pulled out a long, bent wand, and handed it to her. "Accompany Zeus on this mission. Kill anyone who stands in your way."

Artemis laughed. She didn't stop all night.

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter we begin the start of the newest arc, Life Sentence. Be excited!

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