"IN! GET IN!" Bellatrix shrieked, blasting dead another lowly death eater. "WARN THE DARK LORD!"
The collective of death eaters were wary of the field. As Lestrange forced a number of them inside with random protective charms cast over them, the murmuring began to grow.
The werewolves left long ago. Fenrir lay dead, he appeared to be especially susceptible to the effects of whatever was happening. His eyes had dropped out of his skull and his tongue turned to acid in his mouth. Most of what remained of Fenrir was little more than his beastly hide and skeleton.
The whispers traveling around the groups rang out louder and louder as more of their fellows begged for release from inside the lethal tomb Hogwarts had become. They called the terrifying thing, The Curse.
"I bet the dark lord is already dead," someone had said.
Bellatrix ceased that line of thought along with the life of the one who said it.
"Maybe the barrier's the thing killin' people," was one of the more popular theories despite others declaring that The Curse came from inside the castle.
"Imperio!" Bellatrix exclaimed, ordering another contingent of Death Eaters into the barrier.
Mutiny was one of the options being discussed, but only sparsely and in hushed whispers. Lucius did his best to spread the idea, but Bellatrix kept an eye on him specifically over the others. If someone was going to try something, she knew it would be him. As cowardly as the man was, he still cared for his useless spawn.
She couldn't risk him entering the barrier and sabotaging her efforts but still needed to ensure he remained passive.
"MORE!" Bellatrix demanded. "MORE VOLUNTEERS!"
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Voldemort's journey to the Headmaster's office was surprisingly free of bodies and blood. It seemed like this was one of the areas that were already cleaned out.
He stalked past the empty portraits. The silent halls. It was beginning to wear on his nerves. The silence. It screamed at him with its smothering pressure. It screamed with the voice of every man, woman, and child he had murdered.
He took a deep breath and braced himself against the wall. Being alone in the corridors granted a moment of reprieve from the eyes of his lessers. He stepped forward and a chilling wave erupted up his spine.
He jumped back, looking around warily. He knew that feeling. It was the sensation of passing through a ghost.
He held out his wand. The Revelio spell would make invisible ghosts visible. Voldemort's hand trembled.
The dark lord feared nothing. So, why was he finding it difficult to cast the spell that would let him see what he had just come into contact with?
"Revelio," he whispered as his thoughts came to the conclusion unwanted.
Because Lord Voldemort doesn't want to know what he just passed through. He gritted his teeth. But I need to know.
His wand finished the movement and he saw something that sent shivers down his spine.
The limp hand and forearm of a ghost floated in front of him at eye level, rotating slowly. The end of the arm looked torn away with a shred of sleeve left behind.
Far behind the dark lord, Filius Flitwick followed. His Silencio kept him from making any noise and he used Scourgify on everything that dripped off of him. He didn't want to ruin Hermione's hard work.
Why is Voldemort stopping? He wondered. He watched the dark lord for several minutes until the pale man continued on his way, revealing to Flitwick what had halted him.
When Voldemort was far enough down the corridor, he approached the phantasmal limb. It was one he recognized. The arm and sleeve belonged to the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. The Grey Lady.
The head of Ravenclaw house grimaced. Whatever happened to the ghosts, it was worse than he thought.
Voldemort continued through the silence. He reached the shattered gargoyles and continued up the headmaster's steps into the office. Once inside, the dark lord froze in shock as he took in the scene before him.
The room was cleared out of the silvered oddities that used to clutter the shelves and were instead replaced with runes covering every inch of the walls. The broken silver objects were scattered across the floor as if tossed about haphazardly. The runes were mismatched, each section having been made by a different set of hands. The first two sections were carved into the walls, but their styles differed greatly between Mesopotamian and Egyptian pictographs. The third section of the wall, the one directly opposite the entrance, was written in Elvish, the language of house elves, with blood and an orange substance halfway through. The fourth and fifth sections were drawn in chalk, one being Nordic runes, the other being Greek. The desk had been moved to the center of the room and cleared. Surrounding the desk, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, Septima Vector, and surprisingly, Severus Snape hovered vertically in the air. They were limp, leaning slightly forward.
Voldemort's face twisted in disgust as he noticed they were actively dripping blood and other visceral fluids. Their eyes were gone and their mouth hung open except for McGonagall, whose jaw was clenched shut.
At the core of the circle they hovered in, sitting on the desk in its pristine condition, was Ravenclaw's Diadem.
The long-dead professors laughed at him with their frozen faces of pain and terror. All except for Snape's. Severus Snape's face was contorted with pain like the rest, but Voldemort could make out a little smirk. One of mockery.
Voldemort would have appreciated such beautiful revenge if he had not been the subject of it.
His last Horcrux powered the barrier keeping everything in the castle from leaving. If he destroyed it, he was mortal. And Voldemort was no fool, he felt the symptoms creeping on him over the past hour. If he took down the barrier, which, by his translation of the runes, would necessitate the destruction of the power source, he would be subject to the cursed disease that permeated the entirety of Hogwarts castle.
Voldemort could not win. Either he stayed in this disease-ridden hell until his body perished, or he destroyed his last attachment to the mortal realm. He hadn't missed the fact that Granger never mentioned the location of the other survivors. If he could even make another Horcrux his body would likely stop functioning before he found them. Judging by what was left of that spirit in the hall, I might not survive regardless if my Horcrux is intact.
Voldemort's scream of rage shook the castle to its very foundations. He struck with his wand, blasting everything in sight, but the runes repelled his attacks and he dared not attack his Horcrux. So, the resulting damage was minimal.
Granger! He realized. And that little abomination professor! I can use them to make a Horcrux!
He turned, a grim smile on his face, and flew down the stairs. He reached the bottom and almost slammed into Flitwick himself, startling the both of them.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Voldemort exclaimed, freezing Flitwick in place.
I need something for my Horcrux! He realized, looking around the barren hallway. Anything will do! Wait, that's it! The Wand.
He turned to the frozen Flitwick with a certain sickly green spell on his lips.
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Conquest: heheheheh
Forsooth: Flitwick was just murdered, what the heck man?
Conquest: no, I mean about catch 22 with the Horcrux.
Forsooth: yeah, that makes more sense.
Conquest: had me cackling.
Forsooth: well, ladies and gents, it's not over yet, keep reading and please review.
Conquest: our next chapter will be uploaded soon hereafter. VERILY I SAY!
Forsooth: VERILY