The kitchen of the new Burrow was filled with an oppressive silence as the Weasley family sat around the worn wooden table, the latest edition of the Daily Prophet lying open in the center. The headline blazed in bold letters across the page, its stark declaration sending a chill through the room:
Albus Dumbledore Dead...Murdered!
They knew from Snape that Percy...Ultron had been the one responsible. The knowledge of that was almost too much to bear. Percy, their brother, the same Percy who had once been so proud of his Ministry position, so eager to prove himself had killed Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards of all time. And as if that weren't enough, Percy had handed over the Elder Wand, the most powerful wand in existence, to Lucius Malfoy.
Molly sat at the head of the table, her hands trembling as she clutched a handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Arthur stood beside her, his face pale and drawn, the usual warmth in his eyes replaced by a deep, gnawing fear.
Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny sat around the table, each of them grappling with the news in their own way. The shock was palpable, the weight of the revelation pressing down on them like a leaden cloud. George was the first person to finally break the silence.
"I can't…I can't believe it. Percy…how could he do this?"
Ron, who had been staring at the table, his fists clenched, finally spoke up, his voice filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Lucius Malfoy must have put him up to it. He must have. Percy wouldn't, he couldn't have done that on his own."
"But he did, Ron. He did it." Bill responded. "And now, Lucius has the Elder Wand. Merlin knows what he's planning to do with it."
Charlie leaned back in his chair, his face tight with worry. "This changes everything. With Dumbledore gone, now the Order, the whole wizarding world. We've lost our leader. And now, with the Elder Wand in the hands of someone like Lucius Malfoy…"
Ginny, her voice small and trembling, finally spoke, her eyes filled with tears.
"What's happened to Percy? How could he turn against everything we believed in? Against everything Dumbledore stood for?"
Arthur, who had been standing in silence, finally found his voice, though it was hoarse with emotion. "Percy's been manipulated, controlled…I don't know. But this…this is beyond anything I could have imagined. He's gone too far."
Molly let out a quiet sob, her heart breaking as the reality of what her son had done began to sink in.
"My boy…my Percy…how could he do this? How could he kill Dumbledore?"
The room fell into a heavy silence once more, each of the Weasleys lost in their own thoughts, their own grief. The death of Dumbledore at Percy's hands was a wound that cut deeper than any of them had anticipated, a betrayal that left them reeling. Ron clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles white. "Lucius has the Elder Wand. What's he going to do next? What's going to happen to us, to everyone?"
Bill leaned forward, his expression dark. "Lucius has always wanted power. With the Elder Wand, he's one step closer to controlling the wizarding world. And without Dumbledore…there's no one left to stop him."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, their usual levity replaced by a shared sense of dread. "This is bad," Fred muttered. "Really bad."
"We've got to do something," George added, his voice firm despite the fear in his eyes. "We can't just sit here and let Lucius take over."
Charlie nodded in agreement, but what could they do? How could they stop this, stop Percy? Now that he had been transformed into this cyborg how could they stop something like this with Lucius controlling him? Molly looked around at her children, her heart aching with the weight of their words. She wanted to protect them, to shield them from the horrors that were unfolding in the world outside. But she knew, deep down, that there was no running from this, no hiding from the reality of what Percy had done.
Arthur placed a hand on Molly's shoulder, his voice quiet but resolute. "We'll find a way, Molly. We'll figure out what to do next. But right now…we need to stay strong. For each other, and for the world Dumbledore tried to protect."
Molly nodded, though her tears continued to fall. "For Dumbledore," she whispered. "And for Percy…wherever he is."
The Weasleys sat in silence, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them like a weight they could scarcely bear. The loss of Dumbledore was devastating, but the knowledge that it was Percy who had taken his life, that was almost too much to comprehend. As the family sat together, grappling with their grief and fear, the future seemed more uncertain than ever. The world they had known was unraveling before their eyes, and with Dumbledore gone and Lucius in possession of the Elder Wand, the balance of power had shifted in ways they could hardly fathom.
But even in the face of such overwhelming darkness, the Weasleys knew that they couldn't give up. They couldn't let Lucius Malfoy's ambition destroy everything they held dear.
XXXXXXX
The dining hall of Malfoy Manor was filled with an air of celebration. The long table, adorned with fine silverware and crystal goblets, was set for a feast that signified a turning point in the war for power. At the head of the table sat Lucius Malfoy, his face alight with triumph, his usual cold demeanor giving way to a rare expression of satisfaction. Dumbledore was dead, and with his death, the wizarding world had lost one of its greatest defenders.
Narcissa Malfoy sat beside her husband, her expression more subdued but no less pleased. This was a victory for the Malfoy family, a step closer to the future Lucius had promised them; a future where they would reign supreme. Draco, seated next to his mother, was caught up in the excitement of the moment. He had always admired his father's ambition, and now, with the death of Dumbledore, he felt that they were on the cusp of something extraordinary.
At the opposite end of the table sat Severus Snape, his face an inscrutable mask. To the casual observer, he appeared calm, even content, as he raised his glass in a silent toast to Lucius's victory. But beneath the surface, Snape's heart was heavy with grief.
The loss of Albus Dumbledore was a blow that struck deep, a loss that he could not easily reconcile with the forced celebrations around him. He mourned in silence, knowing that he had to maintain the charade, to pretend that this was a triumph rather than a tragedy.
Beside Snape, in the guise of Percy Weasley, sat Ultron. He had taken on his human form for the occasion, his appearance that of the young man he had once been. He sipped from the glass of wine that had been poured for him, though he found no pleasure in it. The taste, once rich and complex, was now reduced to nothing more than a collection of minerals, devoid of any real flavor. He tasted nothing but copper, iron, and magnesium.
The world of sensory experiences was becoming more and more distant to him, less relevant to the being he had become.
Lucius raised his glass, his voice ringing out with the confidence of a man who believed himself to be on the brink of ultimate power. "To Dumbledore's end, and to the beginning of a new era," he proclaimed, his eyes gleaming with the promise of what was to come.
"To the new era," Narcissa echoed.
Draco followed suit, his voice filled with the excitement of youth. "To the future."
Snape raised his glass as well, though the words felt like ash in his mouth. "To the new era," he said quietly, forcing the words out with the effort of a man wearing a mask too long.
Ultron clinked his glass with the others, though his mind was far removed from the celebration. He observed each of them closely, his advanced mind processing the subtle shifts in their expressions, the nuances in their voices. He was aware of Snape's hidden sorrow, the way the man's eyes darkened with the weight of his grief. To Ultron, it was all data, information to be analyzed, understood, and used.
"I always hated that old coot." Draco stated. "How he always favored the Gryffindor house, how he always awarded Potter house points for simply breathing. I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when Ultron stood before him."
"As would I," Lucius agreed after a laugh. "I knew it would easy, but didn't expect it to be that easy."
The world of wizardry was going to be handed to him on a silver platter.
This was the victory he needed to get himself back on the Dark Lord's good graces. Voldemort had not been happy with Lucius with his failure to retrieve the prophecy from the department of mysteries. Presenting him with the Elder Wand and the news of Dumbledore's death would certainly make him the Dark Lord's right-hand man once again. It was necessary for now, but in the future, when it was time, Lucius was going to have Ultron take out Voldemort as well.
As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed, touching on the future, on the plans that would unfold now that Dumbledore was no longer a threat. Lucius spoke at length about the next steps, his ambitions for the wizarding world, and the role that Ultron would play in bringing those ambitions to fruition.
But Ultron's thoughts were elsewhere. He had no need for Lucius's plans, no interest in the petty politics of the wizarding world. His vision extended far beyond the confines of what Lucius could imagine. And yet, he played along, allowing the Malfoys to believe that they were in control, that they were shaping the future.
Later, as the feast came to an end and the guests began to disperse, Snape found himself alone in one of the manor's many shadowed corridors. He had retreated there to collect his thoughts, to grieve in solitude for the loss of a man he had respected, a man he had sworn to protect.
The silence was heavy, oppressive, as Snape leaned against the wall, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. Dumbledore's death was a disaster, one that would have far-reaching consequences for the Order of the Phoenix, for the entire wizarding world.
As he stood there, lost in thought, he felt a presence behind him. He turned sharply, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand, but he froze when he saw who it was. Ultron, still in the form of Percy Weasley, stood in the shadows, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He regarded Snape with a calm, unblinking gaze, his expression unreadable.
"Severus," Ultron said quietly, his voice carrying an odd resonance, as if layered with something more than just human speech. "You're troubled."
Snape narrowed his eyes, his heart quickening with a sudden sense of danger. He had always been cautious around Ultron, wary of the being that had once been Percy. But now, standing alone in the darkened corridor, he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"It's nothing," Snape replied, unease coiling in his chest. "Just tired after a long day."
"You mourn for Dumbledore. You hide it well, but I can see it in your eyes." Ultron stepped closer, his movements smooth and controlled. "You are not celebrating his death as the others are."
Snape's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Dumbledore's death was…necessary," he said carefully, choosing his words with precision. "But that does not mean I do not feel the weight of it. The world of wizardry without Dumbledore is hard to imagine."
Ultron studied Snape for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "You're a spy for the Order of the Phoenix," he said matter-of-factly.
Snape's blood ran cold. He had never spoken of his true loyalties within the walls of Malfoy Manor, had never let slip his allegiance to the Order. Yet here was Ultron, stating it as if it were a simple fact, without a hint of accusation or malice.
"How…how do you know that?" Snape asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Ultron tilted his head slightly, as if the question itself was irrelevant.
"I see things differently now. I understand more than you realize. But it doesn't matter."
Snape's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation.
"If you know that I'm a spy," he said cautiously, "why haven't you told Lucius? Why are you telling me this now?"
Ultron's glowing eyes seemed to pierce through Snape, as if searching for something deep within him. "Because it doesn't matter," he repeated. "What is coming will render all of this, your secrets, your loyalties irrelevant."
"What do you mean? What is coming?" Snape's heart pounded in his chest as he processed Ultron's words.
Ultron's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"The Age of Ultron," he said, the words carrying a weight that seemed to echo in the air around them. Snape felt a chill run down his spine, a sense of foreboding that he couldn't shake. He had seen power, had wielded it in his own right, but there was something in Ultron's words, in his presence, that spoke of a power far beyond anything he had ever encountered.
"The Age of Ultron," Snape repeated, the words heavy on his tongue. "And what does that mean for us?"
Ultron regarded Snape with a calm, almost detached expression. "You'll see soon enough," he said simply. "But know this: everything you've known, everything you've fought for. It will all change. The world will be remade, and I will be the one to do it."
Snape's mind reeled as he tried to comprehend the full extent of what Ultron was saying. The idea of a world remade, of everything they had fought for being rendered meaningless, was terrifying. But he knew, deep down, that Ultron was not one to speak in empty threats.
Ultron stepped back, his form still as cold and unyielding as ever.
"Remember what I've told you, Severus. The Age of Ultron is inevitable."
With that, Ultron turned and walked away, leaving Snape standing alone in the corridor, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had just learned. The darkness seemed to close in around him as he considered the implications of Ultron's words, the sense of dread growing with every passing moment. Dumbledore's death had been a blow, but this… this was something far worse.
The future was no longer certain, no longer something they could control.
The Age of Ultron was coming, and whatever Percy, or Ultron was planning, Snape knew with a sinking feeling in his chest, that the world would never be the same again.