The First Fate
Darth Gladiolus's lightsaber deactivated the instant she felt her godfather die. Withdrawing the crimson blade left the chamber quiet and cold. No longer could she hear the lightsaber's thrum. No longer did it cast a weak crimson light around her. No longer was there a faint bit of heat surrounding her. She allowed Sirius's corpse to collapse to the stony floor with a weak thud. She embraced the swirl of pain and acceptance that flowed through her as she finally, truly cast aside the mask of Edelweiss Potter. Any hope to reverse her transfiguration into Darth Gladiolus had died with Sirius Black.
Edelweiss Potter was dead, truly and utterly. Her gaze flickered to Tonks, shocked and horrified, before finding Bellatrix Lestrange. The dark witch threw her head back as she released booming cackles.
"You killed him!" the woman sang, her deathly white face stretched wide with pleasure. "You killed Sirius Black! Ahahaha—ack!"
Gladiolus barely heard the soft thump of the prophecy falling from her hand. In the back of her mind, she was impressed it did not shatter like glass hitting the ground. The rest of her mind was fixated upon the heart of her hatred. Her gaze, burning sulfur and bile, watched the mad dark witch as she choked on her laughter. Her left hand was raised, fingers curled inward to constrict Bellatrix's windpipe.
"He is dead because of your luck, Lestrange," said Gladiolus. Her voice was soft, yet threatening. She watched the dark witch attempt to retreat, even as she clawed at her throat. "I was not the instrument of his death. You were, Bellatrix. Because of you, the Blacks—a great pureblood family—have perished in name. And soon, they shall perish in deed, as well." She smiled. "I would thank you if I cared one way or another."
And with that, her left hand clenched close. Bellatrix Lestrange released a single, final gasp as her eyes bulged wide and her windpipe crumpled within her neck. Seconds passed as Bellatrix tried desperately to take in a breath that would never come. Her body flailed and floundered like a beached fish before finally collapsing to the ground beside her cousin.
And so passed another child of the Blacks.
Gladiolus spat on Bellatrix's body. She recalled what Mrs. Longbottom had told her about the Lestranges back at Christmastime. She sensed the disapproving looks she received from Dumbledore's fighters, sent to unnecessarily rescue her. A Sith Lord might care nothing for the opinions of sheep, but a need for justice had been hammered into her bones long before she encountered Lord Salazar. And as long as the sheep remembered their place, there was no need to cull their numbers. But for those like Lestrange, there were two fates: death or submission.
And I already know which you would have chosen, had I offered instead of acted, thought Gladiolus as her gaze lingered on the corpse.
She shook her head and scanned the chamber. Gladiolus counted eleven members of the Order arrayed around her, yet her senses told her it should be twelve. How could it be so, unless—
Gladiolus ducked under a harsh, red spell. She immediately turned to the spell's source and waved an open hand. Silvery cloth fell away, revealing Mad-Eye Moody. Oh, you fool, Alastor. As he attempted to curse her again, she twisted her hand into a harsh claw. He grasped at his throat. Both eyes—real and dark, fake and bright—bulged as he strained against her power.
"Brazen, but impressive," Gladiolus drawled. "I almost missed your presence. I am disappointed you turned your wand on me, Alastor. I would have loved to make you one of mine, but clearly, you're too dangerous to leave alone—or alive."
Gladiolus crushed her hand. Alastor Moody collapsed, already dead. She released the corpse as her gaze found the source of a nearby squeak. Tonks stood amidst the corpses of her blood, yet her attention and thoughts rested solely on Mad-Eye. Gladiolus raised a surprised eyebrow. All the while, she blocked out the sensations trying to grip her after killing so many near that thrice-blasted arch. Her skin itched as potent emotions rippled and roiled, leaving churned ripples in the already disturbed currents of the Force.
She sensed conflict bubble within Tonks. For a moment, Gladiolus considered offering to train Tonks as her Sith apprentice. The opportunity for revenge should be enough to win Tonks over. Yet Gladiolus suspected the woman possessed too much of Dumbledore's taint to dare accept the opportunity to become more powerful while sacrificing her morals.
Just like Mad-Eye, she thought bitterly. It was a shame, too, for Alastor would have made for an excellent weapon. The man was just too loyal to Dumbledore to consider embracing the power of the dark side. Gladiolus wondered what magical Britain could have been like had others been willing to seize power and impose their will onto the world around them. So many content to let others use them.
It sickened her.
Gladiolus turned her attention to the lingering Order members. They fidgeted at the sight of her marked face and burning eyes. "Kneel and I shall spare your life," she declared, meeting their gazes one by one. Few dared meet her gaze beyond that first moment. "Fight me and you will perish like the Death Eaters spread throughout this chamber."
An older woman asked, "And if we would prefer to live without bowing to you?"
"Then I will let you go…. But only just this once. Should you leave or kneel today and betray me in any way in the future, I will hunt you down. I will destroy you—and not just you, but all your loved ones. Anyone you ever befriended or held a torch for. They, I will make into memories."
The Order members exchanged disturbed looks. She could sense their hesitance to follow her. To choose her. Some had enough rebelliousness that she knew they would resist her rule. But so many of them were exhausted from fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters. They had fought for so long that they quailed at the prospect of facing a new Dark Lord. Not that they knew who she truly was. Darth Gladiolus had only declared her new title to some of the Death Eaters. Maybe a few among those present would realize what she was now. But many, she knew, were too deluded or ignorant to see her for what she truly was.
It shall be their destruction, in the end. They should thank me for giving them the rope by which they shall all hang.
One by one, they scurried from the chamber. A few looked willing to fight had others stood and fought as well. But in the end, they left her with the knowledge they might one day be a problem. But letting them go could draw others of their ilk out and allow her to destroy them all in a single, devastating blow.
Their departures continued until Gladiolus was left with only Tonks for company. The auror shook with rage. It rippled off her in waves. Gladiolus reconsidered Tonks as she considered the likelihood she could tempt the auror to embrace the dark side of the Force. She might even possess sensitivity to the Force. But she could be strong enough as a witch that Gladiolus mistook one power for the other. Sith sorcery was a course some Sith Lords had followed.
Perhaps that was how she would train Tonks.
"Join me," she offered. Gladiolus held out a hand. Tonks flinched. But she neither pointed her wand at Gladiolus nor did she lower her weapon. "Learn from me. Become my apprentice and learn the power I have used here. Become powerful…. Powerful enough to avenge your mentor, Mad-Eye."
"I… I could never—"
"Then go, or die by my hand," snarled Gladiolus. "You no longer interest me, Tonks. Two men await me. I will kill them both this night. I will not settle for only the one whose followers litter this chamber as cooling corpses."
She waited a few seconds for something—anything—from Tonks before scoffing. "What a waste you are. Your mentor will roll in his grave forever because of your weakness."
She then turned from the auror. She reached out for the Force and allowed it to guide her to a door from this chamber to the department entry. Gladiolus knew she would find passage that way from here, and from there to the elevators.
Something awaited her. She could feel it in her bones.
She paused as a presence flickered in the Force. It was brief. Too brief to be something major, yet not so brief as to be nothing. And then a soft sound echoed from behind her.
Gladiolus peered over her shoulder.
Nothing. Not even the faint outline of something disillusioned.
Gladiolus frowned. She expanded her senses, sensing both the door she sought and the one following her. And she was being followed. She even sensed who it was. She considered for a half second whether or not she should confront her stalker. But it was not necessary. Her stalker would confront her regardless, for she had a reason to act.
Poor, poor Tonks. You could have chosen a path that would end with my death at your hands. But instead…
That daft fool had beheld the deaths of her cousin, her aunt, and her mentor in swift succession. Yet she thought she could have a chance against the fully trained Sith Lord responsible for killing all three. Gladiolus could not say if Tonks was an idiot, a fool, or merely desperate. Perhaps she should laugh at how fortunate this choice proved to be. No doubt there would be some among the Order doubting their choice to leave and accept a Sith Lord's mercy. Tonks's corpse would help remind them they had made a wise decision.
And if they dared deny her as their new master, she would turn the same powers used against her twice to destroy them. The Daily Prophet would become her tool. It would ensure any and all who resisted the will of Darth Gladiolus were viewed as the treacherous parasites they were.
How ironic that the powers meant to preserve magical Britain's stagnant status quo would soon be hers to wield against those who had used it against her. Gladiolus would enjoy their destruction. Many would learn from those examples. Some, possessing strength and moral fortitude, would not bend to her will. She would see to them personally.
No Sith permitted opposition. Not when their destruction could be guaranteed.
As she reached the door back to the Department of Mystery's foyer—Gladiolus sensed this particular door would lead her true—a spell zipped her way. She spun, blade activating with a snap-hiss, and slapped away the errant spell.
"Step into the light, Tonks." A silent moment passed. "Come forward! I shall grant you the honor of a warrior's death. But you must give up your cowardly ways." Gladiolus smirked. "You are not the coward your mentor was."
"He was a better man—gack!"
Gladiolus clenched her left hand tightly as she yanked Tonks toward her. Her power broke through the magic hiding the auror from sight. The disillusionment collapsed and Tonks appeared, hair black as death. The auror tried to glare daggers at the Sith Lord, but all she could do was grip her throat as if her windpipe could be yanked clean open.
Darth Gladiolus made a tutting sound before saying, "Did you truly think that could work on me after I destroyed Alastor Moody for attempting the same trick? You may have deceived my senses briefly, but it was not long enough to have any hope of getting the jump on me."
Tonks gasped and whined while trying to speak. Gladiolus tightened her grasp slightly. Not enough to immediately kill, but enough so her victim would know with grave certainty her fate was already decided. Like her auror mentor, Nymphadora Tonks would die in the bowels of the Ministry this night. That was the price one paid when they were a great, terrible fool.
Gladiolus had no reason to be surprised the auror would dare try and murder the one who murdered her mentor. The mentality of vengeance and betrayal held the fabric of magical Britain together, regardless of what Dumbledore preached. Those very traits he proclaimed to be bad and corrupting spread out from him. He acted as though he possessed the right to dictate the greater good, no matter the means he employed. And once those against him realized he was a hypocrite, then why bother holding themselves to any standard or principle?
Only victory mattered.
"I am disappointed in you, Tonks. Unsurprised by your choice, but still disappointed. After all, Dumbledore tells all his petty acolytes to not seek revenge. He certainly gave me that impression, when I still believed in him."
Tonks released another choking sound as her face bloomed bright red. Her hair followed suit, turning a shade of violent crimson. It reminded Gladiolus of her lightsaber and proved a reminder that with Tonks, a rare magical gift would perish.
She made her choice, the Sith Lord thought. And she made the wrong one.
Her hand closed tight the instant she deactivated her lightsaber. Gladiolus watched realization flash in Tonks's eyes before she too perished like her mad aunt and her mentor.
Gladiolus released her grasp. The corpse collapsed forward, the latest of many left in her wake. The Sith Lord almost felt something, gazing upon the loss of talent and ability before her. She returned her lightsaber to her belt as she tossed away that silly, sentimental feeling.
Sith Lords did not need sentimentality. She found no power in sentiments. Her way was that of the dark side. The dark side of the Force granted her the power to reshape the world as she saw fit. Only fools and the weak relied on sentimentality to move forward. That was Dumbledore's way. And in a manner, Voldemort relied on sentiment as well. The pretender Dark Lord, for all he claimed to be different from Dumbledore, was a reflection of their common foe. One claimed to fight for the innocent while the other claimed to defend tradition.
Yet like her, they were radicals. But where they sought to shape Britain to their foolish whims, she would forge a better nation. A stronger one. A magical Britain worth being proud of, and one capable of resisting the whims of powerful madmen.
But to see her vision come to fruition, she needed to destroy those two men. After all, she would need to handle those who supported them. They would linger in the shadows, on the edges of society, even after the deaths of Voldemort and Dumbledore. But time would see their ideals swept away and discredited.
All any would remember of these turbulent years would be Darth Gladiolus and her rise to power.
She turned from the corpse, passed through the door she had been heading for, and returned to the Department of Mysteries' circular entry chamber. Gladiolus scanned the chamber with a sense of disappointment. Nothing of either the Death Eaters or the Order members had been left behind. She had secretly hoped an enemy would leave behind something—anything—to expose their presence beyond the corpses left in her wake. Many would quail at the thought of using the dead as evidence of the sins committed by the men who dominated their society. But it was necessary. The people needed to learn the dreaded price all paid when they followed madmen.
Gladiolus left through the stable exit door and followed the passage back to the elevators. She discovered the elevator she descended with waiting on her like a loyal hound. She already sensed her foes waiting in the Atrium. She found it amusing that their attention was focused on her and not on each other. Did they know what she had become? Did they already fear her power?
Or were they so ignorant they continued to operate under the delusion she had barely grown beyond that foolish girl Voldemort dueled back in June?
It mattered not. Before the night ended, they would be dead. She would loom over their bodies. And standing there, she would bend all of magical Britain to her will. It was Darth Gladiolus, not Albus Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort, who was destined to rule.
She only needed to seize magical Britain for her own.
The elevator return to the atrium passed slowly. The door opened slowly and she stepped out into the atrium. She started for that noxious golden fountain. Her molten yellow eyes glanced about as she reached the fountain. Gladiolus felt the old men in hiding. For whatever reason, they were content to remain in their hiding places instead of emerging to confront her. Certainly, they should know some of what she had done. She had allowed Dumbledore's cowardly followers the chance to flee from her wrath. They were not the threat the Death Eaters were. They had stood atop society with the power to reshape it, and they allowed their enemies to regain and hold power. That failure was unsurprising, given their leadership.
Dumbledore preached worthless, foolish mercy.
She was different. She would correct the errors of the past. Those loyal enough to Voldemort to willingly sneak into the Department of Mysteries on his behalf were dead now. The rest would either hide away in society and slowly be changed by her influence, or they would make an error and thus grant her the opening necessary to destroy them and receive praise.
And once they were culled, any others who might oppose her would fall into line. If any were still foolish to act against her, well…. They would know their inevitable fate.
Death came to all who opposed Darth Gladiolus.
Minutes passed as Gladiolus stood before the fountain, waiting for Voldemort and Dumbledore to act. Did becoming old grant them unnatural patience? Her skin itched while dark side energies flared and burned in her veins.
When her patience broke, it broke swiftly and harshly. Gladiolus turned to where she sensed those two hated men and raised her hands, fingers pointed forth. She breathed in and then released a torrent of Force lightning powerful enough to vaporize a thousand men.
Magical shields arose before her power could wash over them. Gladiolus felt the power put behind those shields as her lightning lapped over them. There was a reason those two wizards were feared. But they were wizards. She was a Sith. She was greater than them. And so with her fury filling her, she poured more power into her assault. The indigo bolts grew in size and strength, brilliant flashes of white flickering along every stream of lightning.
Dumbledore broke first. He vanished from his hiding spot right before his shield failed. He appeared several yards away from where her power scorched the tiled flooring. Voldemort fled her attack a few seconds after Dumbledore, moving in the opposite direction.
Gladiolus released her power. There was a tremendous flickering of light, followed by a great dimming. There they stood, three corners of a triangle surrounding the Ministry's golden statue.
Soon, only one would remain.
"Miss Potter," said Dumbledore. He sounded hoarse and hollow. Weak. "I am disappointed you would lash out with violence so. Have you forgotten all of my lessons?"
"You taught me nothing useful. All of your 'lessons' were naught but meaningless platitudes meant to keep me under your thumb." She paused and then tilted her head. "Are you truly surprised I would lash out instead?" She ignored the false name he called her. He had no reason to know she was Darth Gladiolus now. Not until she told him. Like Tom Riddle, she had rejected her past self. "I feel your horror over what I have become. Yet you will not come to terms with the tantamount failure I represent until it is too late. You must have known what I was becoming when I put into motion the events that concluded with your expulsion from Hogwarts.
"But I guess you truly are a foolish old man."
Dumbledore stared at her, pondering how he might convince her to turn away from the dark path she followed. Gladiolus knew there would be no turning back for her. But if the old man wished to waste his final minutes trying to plead with her, then why not humor him? He might be powerful and feared, but his wizardly powers were no match for the dark side of the Force.
"I had hoped some sense of mercy or forgiveness still existed in your heart," Dumbledore eventually said, his half-moon spectacles glimmering with ambient light.
"I am afraid those days are over, Albus." Her gaze flickered to Voldemort. His crimson eyes widened at meeting the sulfuric fire that burned in her skull. She turned back to Dumbledore as she embraced her passions. The fiery power of the dark side of the Force burned in her veins. "The Edelweiss Potter you knew is dead," she proclaimed with a sardonic grin. "She has been tossed aside like a broken mask, no longer useful for the actor playing that role. I have been reborn as Darth Gladiolus. And on this night, I shall ascend to my proper place as the Dark Lord of the Sith."
"A dark lord?" sneered Voldemort. "You?"
Gladiolus watched him step forward, pale-skinned and dressed in a black robe. He ignored Dumbledore's presence now, focused instead on the one who would dare covet his title.
She raised an eyebrow. "Is it so difficult to believe that I could stray from the path of righteous martyrdom Dumbledore prescribed for me? No doubt you have realized you've been made mortal. The artifacts into which you imbued your essence, so you may guarantee your immortality, have been destroyed. Once I kill you this night, you shall remain dead. No return from apparent death for you, Lord Voldemort."
Voldemort sneered, crimson eyes burning with a special breed of hatred. His subconscious knew she spoke true, regardless of what he wished and believed. "You know nothing, fool girl."
"I know you once bound some of your essence into a muggle-made notebook. You were sixteen or seventeen when you did that, given what I recognized in the shade it produced. You gave it to the Malfoys, and Lucius passed it along to Ginerva Weasley." Gladiolus then sneered, replicating the look she had grown all too accustomed to seeing. "I destroyed it and the basilisk Lord Salazar hid there. You foolishly assumed that to be the full extent of his legacy.
"You were wrong. For that is not all I found in the Chamber of Secrets. Salazar Slytherin had another legacy. One hidden so thoroughly not even you learned of it."
Voldemort's sneer remained, though she sensed his doubt. "And you think I would believe this fool tale?" he snarled, trying to project absolute certainty.
"I would hope that you would believe your eyes and senses, Voldemort. No doubt you've noticed the lack of wand on my person. The unique weapon I carry. And the fact none of your followers have returned to this chamber while I am free to walk it as I please."
Voldemort's crimson eyes flickered to Dumbledore. He, in turn, met Voldemort with cool blue eyes behind those infuriating half-moon spectacles. She watched them measure each other. Could they think the other was responsible for her transformation? It was deeply insulting they dared believe she set upon her course because of the other. But then neither knew the truth of all she underwent to achieve her powers. They were wizards; she was Sith. They remained ignorant, bound to foolish beliefs that could only arise on a backwater world like theirs. She knew better. She had eaten the fruit of knowledge and wisdom and gathered power from her labors to master the lessons all Sith Lords learned. Before her and her power in the dark side, they were weak.
Hopeless.
They would perish by her hand. One day, their cults would pass from living memory. But they would not escape the judgment of history. She would ensure the histories recalled Dumbledore and Voldemort, and that they recognized only their failures.
"So, how shall we duel?" asked Gladiolus, drawing her enemy's attention back to her. She was almost disappointed they had not begun fighting or monologuing while ignoring her in favor of the other. "Will I be forced to wait as you two duel it out? Or will you fight me instead?"
"I have no wish to fight you, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said. He shifted to better face Voldemort. "Nor you, Tom. But if you both must insist upon violence—"
"I can fight you both, Albus. If the girl wishes to die by my hand, then I shall send her on her way. No matter what powers she has learned, she has no wand."
Gladiolus summoned her lightsaber to her hand. She did not immediately ignite her weapon, though her thumb instinctively found the ignition switch. The wizards flinched. Their wands rose. But no spell flew. She glanced between their rods of yew and elder with a sly smirk.
"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Voldemort, thrusting his yew wand her way. Gladiolus took a slight step back as her lightsaber activated with that distinctive snap-hiss. She battered aside the Killing Curse, emerald light breaking apart on her crimson blade. Voldemort stared, shocked, while Dumbledore turned on the dark lord he knew. He swept his wand at the fountain and then back to Voldemort.
Water leaped in a rising, rippling fury. It hovered only a moment in the air before crashing down on Voldemort's hairless head. Gladiolus watched, impressed, as Dumbledore maintained a thick ball of churning water around the other dark lord. Certainly, Voldemort worked to undo his water prison from within. His power was great enough to achieve that little. And assumed their fighting would keep the two men distracted as she shifted into position to strike them down.
Gladiolus kept her lightsaber low, by her side, as she took slow step after slow step, drifting into Dumbledore's blind spot. Sneaking around Dumbledore without him noticing had never been simple, even with James Potter's cloak of invisibility. Yet she hesitated at reaching an ideal spot. She was torn between wanting to witness horror flash in Dumbledore's eyes as she struck him down and the knowledge that fighting him head-on remained a risky prospect. Voldemort feared him for a reason. Unfortunately, she knew nothing about his fabled duel against the Dark Lord Grindelwald except it had been fifty years ago.
The ball of water suddenly froze, an icy sheen across its spherical surface. A heartbeat passed before it shattered into a million glimmering shards. Gladiolus paused to watch Voldemort fall several feet to the tiled floor, his black robes billowing around him. He waved his yew wand about, transforming the mist of ice about him into a whirling inferno. Dumbledore shifted his stance slightly, widening his hips, and held his wand before him, ready to counter Voldemort's coming attack.
Gladiolus found her opening. The Force augmented her legs as she lunged forward. Her blade remained low and to the side. She thrusted her lightsaber at Dumbledore's back. A mad grin sprung to her face. She had him. Dumbledore would be dead soon. And then his wand suddenly moved, faster than expected.
In one moment, she had him dead to rights.
In the next, magic repelled her. She launched away from the duel near the ghastly golden statue with its found. She slammed into the black tiles and tumbled over and over. Her lightsaber escaped her grasp. She heard it deactivate as it went skittering and clattering away. Gladiolus pushed off the ground with the Force, drifted through the air for several swift heartbeats, and then landed smoothly on her feet. Her lightsaber rested several feet away, barely a quarter the distance between her and her foes.
To her annoyance, the wizards focused not on finishing her, but on fighting each other. Voldemort unleashed a fiery torrent upon Dumbledore the moment after he sent her flying across the atrium. Dumbledore caught the fire with ease and spun the fire about him as though it were a hurricane and he its eye. Gladiolus could feel the power rippling from Dumbledore. She almost wished to be jealous of it, but she had the dark side of the Force. She was a Sith Lord—and he had managed to humiliate her. Fury rose in a fresh wave within her. Her muscles flooded with strength. The ache and soreness she should feel from crashing to the floor and rolling vanished.
Emboldened, she summoned her weapon to her hand. Gladiolus held back from immediately activating her lightsaber. Instead, she watched the wizards continue their duel. She had been a fool to throw herself into their combat so wantonly. Patience, for all she struggled with it, was key when facing those with more experience than her. She should stand back and watch them duel, while also allowing them to grow exhausted. Only once she saw her path to victory over them would she strike.
I must cull my arrogant tendencies in the future, thought Gladiolus as she drew power inward. Her bones buzzed and her veins simmered. If there was ever one place where Snape saw through Edelweiss Potter, it was in recognizing her arrogance. I inherited that trait, and my power in the dark side threatens to make it worse.
Dumbledore transformed the fire he had spun about his person into a billowing sprawl of crows. Their caws and cries filled the atrium as they rose to the ceiling. A moment later, they descended in a spiraling miasma meant for Voldemort. He dissolved the fake birds into smoke and ash. Gladiolus began to focus her power. As Voldemort transfigured the smoke and ash into blades, she imbued his magical working with dark side energies. They would protect the attack from anything Dumbledore could do. Voldemort appeared unaware of her actions as he cast a flurry of blades down at Dumbledore. But the old man knew. That was all Gladiolus could determine as Dumbledore backpedaled, allowing the blades to pierce the floor instead of using his prodigious transfiguration ability to change the weapons fired at him.
"Have you lost your touch, Albus?" sneered Voldemort. "Or have you finally become a coward in your old age?"
Dumbledore glanced at Gladiolus. Despite the distance between them, she spotted a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. She suddenly wanted to tear them out. "I'm afraid, Tom, that I was more concerned about what Miss Potter had done than your trick, as impressive as it was."
"Did you not listen to her?" taunted Voldemort. "The girl has abandoned her old name. Call her by the one she has chosen: Darth Gladiolus." He turned to her and sneered. "If you think yourself worthy of the title of Dark Lord, then come take it from me, girl."
"So be it." She focused dark side energies in her limbs while watching Voldemort's yew wand as it swiveled her way. Right before Voldemort could cast, Gladiolus burst forward. She waited for his spell to fly from his wand before leaping into a high somersault. As she descended, she ignited her lightsaber. Blazing crimson swung for his head as Voldemort once more shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
Gladiolus swept her lightsaber about in a lazy arc. Emerald light broke on her blade. She landed and immediately leaped forward into a rolling somersault. She popped up and swung her blade as though she were a pirouetting ballerina. Voldemort swore and backpedaled, curses on his lips and yew wand flashing. Gladiolus ducked and weaved around his defensive attack, only using her blade to dissolve a few errant spells that risked hitting her back or legs.
She eventually spotted a weakness in Voldemort's offensive pattern. It was not an opening, per se, but it was enough for her to strike at. Gladiolus lunged two long steps before thrusting at his gut. One hand remained on her lightsaber while the other tingled from the Force lightning crackling across her fingertips. Voldemort's crimson eyes glanced between the two threats, already knowing the potential danger of both.
He suddenly smirked. His wand flicked down. A thin stream of fire shot forth. He twirled his fiery whip in a chaotic pattern. She hesitated a split second, reaching for the Force to guide her hand through her enemy's sudden change in tactics. Voldemort acted before her and wrapped his fire whip around the blade of her lightsaber. He then yanked back like a fisherman. Her right arm was pulled up and away from his body. Gladiolus stumbled before suddenly twisting her hips. She then thrust her left hand Voldemort's way. A blaze of indigo bolts filled the narrow gap between them.
Voldemort moved quickly to block her blast with another magical shield. It prevented her from wounding him, but it was not strong enough to prevent her attack from driving him back. Gladiolus swore at how he kept his feet, though the dark scowl that crossed his face promised a viable attempt on her life.
Gladiolus snarled and sneered. She welcomed his resistance. It would only confirm the superiority of her power over his.
Before Gladiolus could continue her assault on Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore stepped into view. He did not stand between them nor did his wand aim at her. His stern expression cast a harsh edge onto his previously kind features.
"You do not need to fight alone," he told her. "You have never needed to—"
"Spare me your condescending words, Dumbledore!" shouted Gladiolus. Voldemort, on the other side, smirked. She glanced between the two men before starting toward Dumbledore, each step slow and measured. Her lightsaber hung at her side, thrumming as it swayed in her grasp. "I have heard enough of your platitudes! I know your wisdom is nothing more than the prattling of a failed, hopeless man!"
His face softened. "You're right, Edelweiss. I have failed you."
"I already told you," she growled. "Edelweiss Potter is dead. I am Darth Gladiolus."
Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed disappointment. "So that is the decision you've made. I see now that you took what I said at the end of your second year about you and Tom to heart." He raised his wand and aimed for her heart. "I hope the girl you were can forgive me for what I'm forced to do."
"She never could, for you symbolized all she hated. She killed the Dursleys. But I shall kill you."
And with that, she surged forward. The dark side burned in her veins, filling her with heady power that slipped through her pours and coated her skin. Dumbledore had watched her assault against Voldemort carefully, for he immediately put distance between them. Gladiolus did her best to close the gap, using her training in Ataru to score nicking slices and thrusts to weaken and slow her hated foe.
He learned more from her brief fight with Voldemort than to create distance between them. He too used a fire whip to counter her lightsaber. The tip twitched with every flick of his wrist that blocked or parried her strikes.
Gladiolus learned quickly as well. She relied on the Force as she shifted between offense and defense. Lord Malgus had once shown her a few techniques from Soresu, the defensive Form III, after a particularly embarrassing duel. Some of that worked its way into her fighting style as she sought any angle by which she might end their duel quickly and decisively.
Albus Dumbledore suddenly stepped forward, dissolving the distance between them. Gladiolus tried to slam her weapon through his chest, but he swung his whip so it curled tightly around the crimson blade of her lightsaber.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted. Gladiolus looked from one enemy to the other. An emerald green wave raced their way. Her instincts told her to retreat, but she was caught up in Dumbledore's spell. And then she remembered a Force technique she had practiced only sparingly, despite the great potential it offered. She had been more enthralled with astral projection and Force lightning, and even the ways she could sway weak minds.
I must make this work, or Voldemort will kill me—and steal Dumbledore's life, as well.
Her left hand rose. Gladiolus drew on all the hate and loathing she felt for these men and focused her power on the dangerous task of consuming the Killing Curse. As it came to her and Dumbledore, she acted.
A sudden, strained hiss filled the atrium. The emerald light spluttered and faded as malevolent power flowed into Darth Gladiolus. She smiled brightly as she clenched her left hand open and closed several times. Every ounce of her person felt stronger. Greater. More.
"What…?" whispered Voldemort.
Gladiolus smirked and proclaimed, "I told you I knew powers you did not know, Voldemort. You should have listened when I warned you."
And with that, she released a wild, colossal wave of pure dark side energy. It slammed into Voldemort and his magical shield. His shield shattered and he was sent flying halfway down the atrium, crashing to the tiled floor among the many, many fireplaces that lined the long length.
She turned back to Dumbledore, for he had released a strange choking sound just as she sent Voldemort flying. He stared at her with wide, startled eyes. Gladiolus could feel his shock and fear, and most of all realization. Yet before she could quest into his mind and learn why he reacted so, he canceled his fire whip spell and lowered his wand.
"So that is what she meant," whispered Dumbledore. "I thought she spoke of another power."
"The prophecy?" Gladiolus flashed him a disbelieving smile. She may have seen her true name upon its plaque, but it meant nothing to her. It had only been a tool to bring about the death of her enemies and to seize power. "You truly believed in it?"
"I still believe," said Dumbledore with a strange edge of pride. "And I still believe in the powers of love and forgiveness. You may strike me down this day. But my legacy will live on. This creature you've become will not last." Tears etched down Dumbledore's face as he tossed aside his wand. It clattered across the black tiles before rolling to a stop far away. He smiled serenely. "One day you will be Edelweiss Potter again.
"And that, Darth Gladiolus, is when my victory will be complete."
Gladiolus snorted. "The prattling of a dead man." She raised her weapon. Dumbledore stared at her evenly. "Goodbye, Albus Dumbledore."
And with that, she brought her blade down. It sliced clean through the man, entering between his neck and shoulder and exiting out above the opposite hip. His body collapsed into two uneven chunks, cauterized cleanly.
Somehow, a serene smile remained on his face at the end.
She spat on his body before turning to Voldemort. Gladiolus understood intellectually that her last attack against him had propelled him closer to a multitude of escapes. But he had not fled. Instead, Voldemort stood several paces away, watching her with burning crimson eyes.
"It is over!" boomed Gladiolus as she approached Voldemort. Her lightsaber grazed the floor while she drew the power of the dark side to her. "Albus Dumbledore is dead. And soon, you shall follow him!"
"You can try," Voldemort snarled. "But I will always defeat death."
Gladiolus launched forward without fanfare. With the Force empowering her, she closed the distance between them in a blink. Voldemort reacted slowly, casting a single foul-colored hex before she reached him, lightsaber raised high. She sprung over the spell and reached him with two swift steps.
As he had done earlier, Voldemort used a fire whip to hold Gladiolus at bay. Yet she quickly realized that he had been holding back earlier. He now used long sweeps and sudden flicks of the wrist to keep her on her toes, moving from offense to defense in almost equal measure. She could sense where his attacks would come from, but being able to know and being able to react was not the same skill.
Through some two dozen exchanges of blows, Gladiolus held firm. She mixed thrusts and slashes with a few odd parries and blocks. Sweat trickled down her back as their fighting continued, slowly drifting down the atrium toward the security stand. She kept an eye on that and the many fireplaces around them. At any time, someone could arrive and interrupt their duel.
And then she slipped up. Even with the dark side fueling her, Gladiolus only had a few months of accelerated lightsaber training under her belt. She would never openly admit it, but she knew in many ways she remained a novice. Worse than that, Voldemort's combat experience exceeded hers by decades and he had not been trained in a new art as Gladiolus had.
His fire whip slipped past a late parry and scorched a hot line across her left gauntlet. It did not pierce the metal and reach flesh, yet she felt heat through metal and whatever material Lord Salazar had put on the inside.
Hatred and fury bloomed in Gladiolus's veins. She slashed at his right hand while stepping into Voldemort's guard. Her blade seared flesh and wand alike, through her angle was too forward to chop off his hand. Yew caught flame as her blade sliced up and out from the soft interior of his elbow. Voldemort's high, horrified scream was music to her ears. She focused her mind on the fire, driving it to devour his wand fully. Gladiolus watched him backpedal, waving his wand about with his seared arm in a futile attempt to dispel the flame.
The fire consumed and consumed.
Ashes fell from Voldemort's hand as his jaw clenched. Flame licked briefly at his fingers. His furious crimson eyes focused on the sulfuric gold gaze of a grinning Gladiolus. She poured dark side energies into the smoldering fragment of yew he still held. It shattered after two seconds, leaving Voldemort's right hand a mess of blackened and bloody gouges.
He roared and held his wounded hand tightly against his chest. Miraculously, Voldemort retained enough strength to remain standing.
Gladiolus's boots clicked on the tiled floor as she approached him one final time. Voldemort glared at her with hellfire and poorly masked fear. She sensed the potential to be a Sith Lord with him. But too much history existed between them. She could never permit him to kneel before her as an apprentice. His death had been predetermined.
She twirled her blade as she neared, filling the air with a violent whooshing noise. Despite his wounded hand and looming death, Voldemort stood firm. Darth Gladiolus twisted her left hand, and he was forced to his knees. He strained and struggled, but was powerless against the Force.
"Is this how you defeat death, Voldemort? Have you succeeded in your flight from that which comes for all?" she asked with a sneer. "On your knees?"
"How dare you, Potter!" the man growled, forgetting the honor he had granted her. It seemed at the end of all things, Voldemort remained Tom Riddle in his heart. "I am—"
Her lightsaber moved faster than his tongue. In one moment, Gladiolus stared down at the most feared dark lord of the century. In the next, she gazed upon a sad, pale corpse with a black, cauterized line across the neck. Voldemort's head dropped to the floor with a loud plop before rolling a few feet away. His corpse then slumped over, the stump seared closed.
"It's done," Gladiolus whispered. Power rushed through her; her ascension was complete. What she began with the death of Umbridge was complete. "It's done!" She burst out laughing. "They're dead. They're dead!"
A whoosh of fire silenced her laughter. Gladiolus sensed ten figures scramble out of a nearby fireplace, though only a few had wands drawn. She waited for them to spread away from the fireplace before she deactivated her weapon, hooked it to her belt, and finally turned to face the newcomers.
"Minister Fudge," Gladiolus whispered once her gaze found him. With the Minister were a half-dozen aurors, followed by Madam Bones and two others Gladiolus knew not. They all froze. Only one auror had the sense to aim his wand at her. She waved a hand and his wand flew from his hand, clattering several feet away. The other aurors understood just who truly held power and lowered their arms. Their jaws clenched, though. Frustration rippled off them in waves.
"Miss Potter?" asked Fudge as though he did not know her face. He could not meet her gaze, with burning sulfuric eyes. "What— What has happened here?"
Her time of secrecy had ended. She smiled and declared, "I have ascended, Minister. I abandoned who I once was and transfigured myself into a new woman. A new being. I… am Darth Gladiolus." She glanced back at Voldemort's cooling, beheaded corpse. "I have corrected the error you made last June. Rejoice, Minister, for Voldemort is truly dead."
There was no need to say "by my hand". Fudge and his party understood as they glanced between her and the corpse. The aurors quickly exchanged nervous glances among their number. They knew they would die if they dared fight her. Yet for some, their honor and duty demanded they do something. Or so she sensed. Gladiolus almost wanted them to try and fight her. Power still lingered within her, and she would enjoy a chance to show these foolish wizards the true power of a Sith Lord.
"And what of Dumbledore?" asked an unfamiliar woman. She was thickset and suspicious, yet somewhat pleasant compared to the late Dolores Umbridge. "We were told he was coming here as well."
Gladiolus turned her full attention to the woman. She swallowed and stepped back. "Told? I would love to hear what you were told, Miss…?"
"I am Madam Edgecombe to yo—!"
The woman's words cut off as she grasped at her throat. Gladiolus had instinctively raised her hand. The Force responded to her will. A Sith Lord's true power. She relaxed her grasp. Madam Edgecombe collapsed to her knees, coughing between attempts to breathe deeply. The other figure—a slightly balding man with a paunchy jaw—kneeled beside her while Madam Bones stared at Gladiolus, horrified.
"Mind your tone, Madam Edgecombe. Your daughter sided with Dolores Umbridge over me. I suspect should you go to Hogwarts and call upon Dolores, you shall find your family has made a very poor decision."
"Are… Are you threatening me?" asked Edgecombe.
Gladiolus smiled, small and amused. "If I wished to threaten you, I would let you know what would happen should you go against me."
"I can already guess," the woman rasped out. The man helped her to her feet. "You're a monster. Worse than You-Know-Who."
"A monster," Gladiolus repeated. "I would be offended, were it not true."
All before her shrunk back, shocked by her bold declaration. She would not declare herself a Dark Lord just yet, for she knew the title would cause her trouble. Rebellions. Resistance. All manner of disturbances. Darth Gladiolus had no qualms about putting down any who tried to resist her rule. But it would be easier for her to never face resistance to begin with.
And to mask my takeover of the Ministry…
"Now, Minister Fudge," she began imperially. "You have two options and you must decide this night." Darth Gladiolus allowed her words to hover in the air between them before continuing. "Either you will leave without title and power, or you will kneel and swear fidelity to me—and me alone. You will retain your office, but not act as you please. The Office of the Minister for Magic will serve my interests, which happen to be the interests best for magical Britain."
Fudge glanced at his fellows as though any of them had the power to save him. Madam Bones looked ready to try and fight Gladiolus, while Madam Edgecombe possessed a fearful expression. The man looked resigned to whatever fate Gladiolus would impose on him. She was pleased to see one already knew what would come to pass before night's end.
The Minister turned back to her and swallowed. He tried to meet her gaze, but he was too cowardly. She could feel his fear. Taste it, even. Somehow, this man had been allowed to guide magical Britain. It was a miracle he had not completely ruined their nation.
"I will ask only once more, Cornelius," she said softly. Fudge flinched at the utterance of his given name. She was easily a third his age, if not a quarter. "Kneel and remain Minister. Else you will depart a common man."
They both understood that should he reject her or reject giving up his office, he would die.
Seconds passed as Fudge shook. His face turned red as he slowly lowered to his knees. Gladiolus watched him descend and then lean forward, hands splayed on the tiled floor like stomped rats.
"I… I can be loyal," he began, glancing up at her face. She watched impassively. "I… I've grown too accustomed to—"
"Get on your feet, you sniveling fool!" snarled Madam Bones, yanking Fudge by the scruff of his green coat. The man squawked. Madam Bones glowered at Gladiolus. "I know not what foolish notions you've acquired in the past few months, Miss Potter, but—"
Gladiolus used the Force to silence Madam Bones. The Sith Lord's right hand was slightly clenched like a claw ready to snatch fleeing prey. The woman's face went as red as her hair, yet her lips pressed into pale lines.
"It is only because of the respect I have for you, Amelia, that I will not kill you this night," Gladiolus said. "Best you remember who I have become, and who you still are. If I must choose between Britain and you, then I promise your funeral will be a bittersweet affair." She waited a few seconds before adding, "Now, will you recant your actions?"
Madam Bones looked thunderous as she struggled to draw breath. Gladiolus held the choke until the woman nodded weakly, reeking of self-hatred at that moment. Only once the Sith Lord was certain Madam Bones would obey did she release her grasp. The woman hacked and coughed for several seconds before returning to normal. She even projected a façade of being unaffected.
Gladiolus returned her attention to Minister Fudge. He gulped. Yet he did not immediately fall to his knees. She inched forward. Just enough to spook him into action.
She nearly laughed at how quickly the man fell to his knees, all but whimpering as he bowed his head. She gazed down upon him with lidded eyes, the burning sulfur of her gaze just peering through. Fudge swallowed again, loud and pained. He tilted his head to just meet her gaze and muttered, "I… I promise to serve you… Darth Gladiolus."
"I will hold you to your promise, Cornelius. Now rise. I have a new vision for magical Britain. One that I hope you will come to share in time. To believe in, truly… and fully."
Darth Gladiolus waited for Minister Fudge to return to his feet before guiding him deeper into the Ministry. They passed Albus Dumbledore's corpse. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. The age of Dumbledore and Voldemort dictating the course of events in Britain was over.
It was now the age of Darth Gladiolus, Dark Lord of the Sith.
She allowed a soft smile to cross her face at the thought. Darth Gladiolus had won. Her enemies were destroyed. One day soon, the public would worship her unquestioningly, as they always should have.
And once Britain was hers, she would hold this world—and many others—in the palm of her hand.
And so it came to be,
The First fate of Darth Gladiolus
Next: an interlude