Many thanks to those who reviewed, and I have a requested topic of discussion. as we launch back into Azeroth, inevitably we will be touching on the timelines of Vanilla through Legion (at least) and I would like to know what plotlines, from the game, books or comic, out to be for sure included in the terms of the Stromreaver or even those ignored outright in my plodding through the timeline of the World of Warcraft. please include everything you want to see and want to not see, and I will see what may or may not weave well into the fabric that I am crafting. while I pride myself on knowing a great deal, there are some things (mostly the comics) that I do not know much of, so I may respond to some reviews with further questions, just so you are aware. Till next time, enjoy! ~F
Chapter Fifty
Casting the Die
Nobu'tan knew that it had been a trap the moment he felt the magic activate, and he cursed himself mentally for his brashness in thinking that ending the Tournament would be that easy. Quickly, he sent off a spell that would notify Lucius that he needed to rescue the remainder of his forces from the Hogwart's grounds, even as he slowly stood and looked around at where he had been taken. The magic of the Portkey that had stolen him away didn't have the same aura as any of those that served Dumbledore, so he highly doubted that the man was involved.
Which left him pondering if it was the Ministry, after imprisoning him once again, but the surrounding graveyard that he found himself in was so drastically different from what he'd expect of those wizards that he found himself confused at the purpose of bringing him here.
That was until he focused on the monument that he had fallen closest to, which read a name that was familiar to him, from what history of his own tale he had bothered learning. 'Tom Riddle,'
The crunch of gravel underfoot turned the warlock slowly to find a pair of figures approaching, and he readied himself for a fight, not knowing exactly what to expect from these fools that would challenge a powerful servant of the Burning Legion, but even as he moved, one of the pair raised a wand.
So swift was the spell that even Nobu'tan hadn't had time enough to dodge or react before ropes surged out of the ground and wrapped around him, binding his arms painfully at his sides and slamming him backward into the tombstone, where he smacked his head roughly and saw starts behind his eyes.
"Excellently done," said a high, cold voice, even as the second figure conjured a black cauldron in the clearing where Nobu'tan had appeared. "Begin," the high voice said again, and Nobu'tan shook his head quickly, trying to rid himself of the dizziness that had come from his heavy collision.
While the first figure watched him like a hawk, wand trained on him to likely prevent him from following through with any plan of escape that Nobu'tan could think of, the other produced a smaller something, swaddled in black cloth. The something squirmed like an infant, but as it was the source of the high pitched voice, it left little for the warlock to believe, other than it could possibly be the Dark Lord Voldemort, trying to kill him yet again.
Three years and the man was going to try again. To be fair, Nobu'tan supposed that the man had already waited nearly ten the first time, so his patience and slow burning seeds of vengeance must have run deep. In one of the deep pockets of his robes, something started to burn hot once more, and with a realization, he understood completely. The soul fragments were all part of this Dark Lord, like the Death Knights that Gul'dan had created, where their mortal frames were unable to be destroyed, as their souls belonged to another vessel.
Suddenly extremely interested, and somewhat curious, he watched transfixed as the smaller man, neither of who he recognized, placed the bundle completely into the water simmering in the cauldron.
"Bone of the Father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" the man said, gesturing in Nobu'tan direction. The ground before him split open, allowing a fine dust to fly up and into the cauldron. Archaic, Nobu'tan thought, but effective none the less, as the potion started to boil and changed colors.
"Flesh… of the s-servant, w-willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master…" the man said shakily, before drawing a silver knife from his robes. With one upward slash and a cry of pain, he sent his own hand into the cauldron. Nobu'tan only shook his head in irritation. Such a sloppy concept, but then the pair started approaching him, and he suddenly realized why he had been taken.
"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…" the man said, drawing almost disgustingly close, as the knife pierced Nobu'tan's arm. He refused to even cry out as the metal found a vein, staining itself with his lifeblood, before hastily withdrawn. The man hurried back to the cauldron, flicking small droplets into the caldron.
"The Dark Lord will rise again," the other figure said, who had been silent until this time, and Nobu'tan thought there was something about that voice that he recognized, but it was hard to place at the moment, and he dared not use any magic to enhance his senses just in case the man overhear him and attacked. Better to wait until the perfect moment to strike than ruin his chances by getting knocked unconscious.
His attention returned to the cauldron, which was close to boiling over, and even as the smaller man scampered away, it seemed to implode inward, as the entire thing lifted into the air, shimmer and changed, becoming the form of a very tall and pale man, shadows forming around him into midnight black robes, as the new person's feet touched the ground.
The two figures knelt before the new form of Lord Voldemort, as that could be the only person that Nobu'tan could think of that would go through such an elaborate plan to capture him for this ritual. But the important part to note was that as the men bowed and scraped before their master, their eyes weren't on him, which gave him the opportunity he was seeking.
Quickly, he began to build up subtle amounts of Fel power, chanting softly under his breath to cut the time needed to draw the strength he needed to free himself and fight if need be. The crystal in his robe pocket squirmed and burned hot again, and Nobu'tan turned his head as much as he could, spotting the massive serpent circling around from the back of the stone, forked tongue tasting the air around the warlock, and realized that this must be another anchor, and he puzzled a moment over the fact that the man would willingly entrust it into another living creature.
Just then, the scar on his forehead seared with white hot agony, and Nobu'tan found his eyes dragged back toward the arisen Dark Lord, who was pressing his finger into the tattoo on the smaller man's arm, the one still with its hand.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? The man whispered, his voice high and cold, almost faint, even as he watched the sky. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
Nobu'tan had to prevent himself from smiling at the man's folly, as most of the remaining Death Eaters that answered his call would be loyal to Nobu'tan alone. "Oh, Harry…" the man simpered, "I had almost forgotten that you were here."
Nobu'tan remained silent, letting the man prattle on, which seemed to anger the so called dark lord all the more. Voldemort grabbed the warlock's face roughly, causing the scar to feel as though it would tear his forehead right open, "You will pay attention when I speak to you Harry Potter!" the man shouted, "As it will be the last things you will ever hear before I kill you…"
But even the dark lord was distracted by the sudden sound of many swishing cloaks, as Death Eaters, his servants appeared from between graves around behind trees. Voldemort may have been unaware, but Nobu'tan could sense that the vast majority of them were his, only a small handful that was not part of the Fel pact that they had made to the Legion.
Voldemort released him to speak with his 'true' family, and Nobu'tan immediately went back to work pooling all the Fel power he could gather while being unnoticed.
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Voldemort could sense that something was different when his followers came to him, signaled by the bond they shared under the Dark Mark. Many did not quickly approach him, unlike the Carrows, or Avery, which came on bended knee and kissed the hem of his robes, as the good servants that they were.
The others however, numbered seven in total out of his innermost circle of twenty one followers. A third of his total followers that ought to be standing there, where as he only had about half that had returned at all. What the change in their magic was however, the Dark Lord could not place.
Around the circle of his servants he went, speaking to each of them, growing more concerned with their distance as he went. The seven he had sensed, Lucius, Nott, Macnair, Yaxley, Crabbe, Goyle and Dolohov were distant to even him, and their thoughts were shrouded in shadows from his sight.
He was most displeased about this, but no matter, no matter, there would be time enough to break every last one of these simpering fools back to the position that they ought to be in. returning his attention once more to Potter, Lord Voldemort felt that the time for the boy's demise had come at last.
"We mustn't let the festivities drag on too long, then," he stated, more to himself amid the speech he had been preparing for his followers for the course of the year. Rounding on the boy, he raised his wand to curse him, to show these fools that he was all powerful, but then he sensed it. The dark magic that flowed through Potter's body, just as green flames incinerated the robes that Barty Jr. had used to restrain him.
It was the same as most of his assembled followers. Which to his mind meant only one thing, "Treachery…" he muttered, turning to look at his supposedly loyal friends and servants, even as the seven out of their near dozen assembled muttered incantation among themselves, calling form horrors that Voldemort recalled only from what had felt to be a dream, hellish creatures that he vaguely remembered from that dreaded battle with Potter three years ago.
How had he forgotten so easily? But that was not important, as now the Dark Lord was betrayed, and brought the might of his magic down on these fools, even as their demons charged at him, surprising the Carrows, Barty and Wormtail.
Then an explosion of hissing and shrieking sent the Dark Lord staggering, and he spotted Potter, some purple crystal in hand, igniting his dear pet Nagini and causing the serpent turned Horcrux to wither and die in the cursed flames.
How could this have happened? He was the Dark Lord, and Potter was only a child, an infant to the world of magic, while he was the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. Even as Nagini died, and released the part of his precious soul that was stored therein, the boy gathered it close, infusing it with part of the crystal, which enraged Voldemort.
Crying with a loud voice, the power of his magic went in all directions, throwing back traitor and servant alike, and banishing their pets back to the hells from whence they had come. "POTTER!" he roared, bringing his wand to bear, ready to kill the boy in an instant for the impudence that the child had to not only destroy part on his ties to the living world, but to have the audacity to know what it meant. Curse Dumbledore for finding out so easily, and curse him again for Potter being the hand that the old man used to smite Voldemort.
The boy turned, and Lord Voldemort stepped forward, ready to strike the child down, but froze when he saw the red gleam overtake the emerald eyes of Lily Potter, and knew for certain that he dealt with no child, but an equal, versed in the darkest of arts.
"So that is what happened, in truth then…" he muttered, comprising a reality for how this could be. The boy had to have become corrupted from that day, infused by the dark magic that the Dark Lord himself was going to use to make his final Horcrux, safeguarding his life for all time with another piece hidden away, and the boy who was prophesized to be his downfall dead at his feet.
Knowing he had to strike more than ever, his wand plunged forward in a flash, "AVADA KEDAVERA!" he bellowed.
But the infuriating boy threw up a hand, as though striking away the deadly curse, and a wall of frost and ice appeared, taking the hit and shattering in smoking vapor, which distorted the Dark Lord's sight momentarily, just enough for the boy to rise and face him.
Only then, did Voldemort take the time to actually observe the child before him, noting that he wore no school robes, but an archaic style that greatly enhanced the boy's magic and abilities, enchanted and purposed to make him more intimidating. A flare of interest ran through Voldemort, but it was passing only, he had to kill the boy, as only he would live through this night.
He struck again, but the deadly green jet was halted by a blast of shadows from the boy's outstretched hand, the child having said no spell nor drawn magic from his own core. Voldemort cried out in shock and alarm, "What is this magic?" Then he remembered in full what occurred that night so long ago, and began to feel a sensation similar to fear.
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Alastor had suspected that the creature that Albus was wasting his time speaking to wasn't going to tell them anything, and he was more than ready when the old man was foolish enough to try and stop the creature as it turned to walk away from them.
With a roar, the massive troll-like monster swung its arms, trying to knock the old Headmaster away, but with a quick charm, Alastor yanked Albus out of the way, following up with a blast of arcane fire, which the beast blocked with its dark magic.
"My Lord may have wanted to be the one to defeat you," one of the heads of the disorienting creature said, cracking the knuckles on its hulking hands, "but we'll be happy to soften you up for him until he returns…" the other added ominously.
Snape darted forward as the massive monster raised both hands, summoning Felfire from the sky. A hail of frost shot upward, countering and impeding the cursed flames from reaching them, even as Albus conjured a powerful Arcane shield around the three combatants.
Despite its size and considerable grasp of Fel magic, the creature was still outnumbered one… or two if you counted heads, to three. It fought viciously, employing powerful physical strikes that they had to dodge quickly, as well as dark magic that tore at the grounds around them.
They were unfortunately far enough away from the pitch that there was no chance of others coming to their aide, but at the same time none would come for the creature either. Slowly, they started to gain ground, using their ability to be in multiple locations to herd the creature back, away from its intended destination of the pitch, where no doubt the rest of its monstrous fellows awaited its arrival to join their master.
That was, until it started to grow wise of their strategy, and varied its attacks, lashing out in sudden bursts of physical strength, once catching Severus hard in the midsection with its trashcan sized hands, sending the thin man flying backward.
Alastor took the opportunity that move presented to lash out with flames, a powerful molten boulder forming before him and flying forward into the exposed back of the robed creature. The beast lurched forward, missing in its attempt to finish off the brooding Potions Master, but their formation had broken, and the creature leapt into the gap and made a run for the stadium.
"We mustn't let it get away," Alastor cried, but Albus hung back, stopping his friend as he started to pursue.
"No," he reprimanded Alastor, "let the creature go, I placed a tracking charm upon it, so now we can know exactly where he goes to meet Nobu'tan, and ambush them when they try to achieve their plans."
Severus got to his feet, wobbling slightly from the force he was struck with. "I hope your plan for that time is better than it was now…" he said unsteadily.
"Well, we'd have to see, but I think I have reinforcements that are more than willing to try and apprehend Nobu'tan for their own reasons." Albus stated, giving Alastor a pointed look.
The ex-Auror knew what the man was asking of him, and nodded, limping back to the castle as quickly as he could, in order to Floo to the Ministry and be in position to relay instruction to Amelia on the location of the Minister's prized prisoner. He didn't agree with throwing away all the manpower of the Auror offices in this mad attempt, but the Order of the Phoenix was not trained enough to deal with such a threat, and the combat awareness of the Aurors would at least keep them alive in order to thoroughly distract the boy forces, whatever that consisted of.
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Lucius kept up a steady stream of spells, battling the four loyal Death Eaters that remained with their former lord, even as the Dark Lord fought against Nobu'tan himself in the graveyard. He had had a surge of fear and worry when the call came, but he had to at least make the appearance that he was loyal, to forestall any more attempts by another party to thwart the plans of the Black Harvest, and had counseled the others to go as well.
And lucky thing he had done so, as once he had laid his eyes on Nobu'tan bound to the tombstone, he had known that the battle was going to be blood and their new lord would need all the allies he could get.
Turning on Voldemort was a thrill that Lucius wished he could experience again and again for the rest of his life, like throwing off shackles that had pained him for so many years. even as the Carrows, Crouch Jr. and Pettigrew screamed their curses, Lucius and the other warlocks held fast, trusting their demonic minions to absorb any damage that might come upon them, and allowing their connection to the Fel speak for them of their allegiance.
The Dark Lord's voice pierced over the sounds of the pitched battle, attempting to taunt the leader of the Black Harvest, clinging to his supposed superiority over the boy. "I offered you the chance to join me once before, boy," he hissed, sending cold shivers down the Malfoy lord's back. "Will you not reconsider, before I destroy you utterly…?"
"I said it once before, you doddering old fool," Nobu'tan replied scathingly, "that you are in no such position to threaten or bargain with me, and that fact remains. I am beyond your power, and my masters will tolerate no false allegiances."
The Dark Lord, no… Lucius corrected himself as his own fear faded, Voldemort shuddered back as Nobu'tan threw his hands to the heavens, causing Fel meteorites to crash to the grassy ground, rising up as three Infernals to fight for him.
A sharp cutting curse flew past his face, and Lucius was forced to turn back to Barty Crouch Jr. whom he and his Voidwalker Grak'dok were locked in heated combat with. The madman, so loyal to Voldemort, was flinging spells about at random, trying to get anything past the shadowed void creature and strike at Lucius directly, but Grak'dok would have none of it, dodging into the path of spells and charging ahead to disrupt the man's footwork.
Lucius presumed that the man had faked his own death in Azkaban, possibly replacing the likeness of his own father through extended use of Polyjuice, but otherwise he cared not, as the man was deranged and like unto a rabid animal, ripe to be put down.
Three more curses, of corruption, agony, and insatiability leapt from his fingers, affixing themselves to the man, who howled with rage as they began to eat his flesh and magic alive. The others weren't having as much luck with their combatants, as Lucius spared a glance around at his allies.
Crabbe had fallen, but whether injured, stunned or dead Lucius did not know, and Goyle was screaming in rage, bolts of destructive magic raining from his fingers with abandon upon Pettigrew, while Nott and Macnair unleashed hordes of demons on the Carrow siblings, completely distracting the pair of them while Yaxley and Dolohov tried in vain to get closer and aide Lord Nobu'tan against Voldemort. Every time they tried however, the Dark Lord would fire spells at them, forcing them back as he squared off against the torrent of spells from the most accomplished warlock on the planet.
"You are mine Harry Potter!" Voldemort shrieked, as a spell caught the boy's shoulder, producing the audible snap of bone, "and both you and your allies will die here, today!"
The ground shook in response, and Lucius turned from the now fallen Crouch, as the man gurgled and twitched on the ground from the curses affixed to him, to watched as Yaxley shifted into a form more closer to the demonic Nathrezim. The hulking purple shape leapt through the air, colliding bodily with Voldemort, claw slashing at his robes and the entire creature seething with Felflames is it immolated itself through sheer force of will.
The Infernals piled upon the demon and Dark Lord, and for a brief moment Lucius hoped that it was all over, that they were victorious, but with a roar of rage Voldemort arose, shattering the Infernals with spells and throwing Yaxley from him, where the man in demon form shattered a trio of tombstones and lay still.
It was short lived, as by the time the Dark Lord turned to reface Nobu'tan, the boy already was working his own magic, long tendrils of purple soul magic latching onto Voldemort, drawing on him as he attempted to cast, but from his own experience with the delicate arts of the soul, Lucius knew that it would be impossible.
Nobu'tan had won, and Voldemort collapsed to his knees, his very life force and magic being ripped from his body in torrents, funneling into a crystal shard in Nobu'tan's hand.
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Teg'Ramm ran for all his two heads were worth. He knew that the location of the other guardians of Nobu'tan were near, and if he could reach them, they would be able to send for a summoning rather quickly, and there was no force that these wizards could throw at them quick enough to defeat them.
Teg glanced back, noting that the three mages were not pursuing him, and knew that something had to be up. it was a deep suspicion that he had gained from their time near the castle of his Lord's most irritating enemy. Nobu'tan didn't trust this Dumbledore for anything, and Teg'Ramm wouldn't either. And that was the reason he had chosen to fight rather than divulge that even they were unaware of where their master had disappeared to.
Unlike these wizards and their mage manipulators, however, the servants of the Fel trusted that Nobu'tan would pull through whatever what thrown at him on this world, although personally Teg'Ramm knew that he had made an oath to protect the boy, and he was wroth to not be able to fulfill that pledge.
Still, he arrived among the Fel centaur and the other ogre magi, they were already sending out eyes to relay messages to their other forces, and withdraw to the preparation grounds for the assault on the stone circle that these wizards had created so long ago. The ritual would begin as soon as their Lord appeared from wherever he had gone.
Edgran cantered forward as Teg'Ramm arrived. "The others of the Black Harvest have gone to assist Lord Nobu'tan," he informed the ogre mage, and Ramm released a small breath that Teg was unaware that his other head had been holding. Teg nodded, gesturing for them to continue preparing for a summoning ritual to take them all, and turned to keep watch for advancing enemy forces, just in case the wizards decided to grow hostile to them.
It wouldn't surprise the ogre mage that these horrid human spell casters would prove to be just a treacherous as his old clan leaders, who were know for such things. Somehow however, he felt that these wizards would prove to exceed the ruthlessness and treachery than even the old chieftain that had sent Teg'Ramm away to training with Nobu'tan in the first place, hoping that it would get the then smaller ogre killed.
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Nobu'tan refused to cease draining the dark lord of the last of his life force until his new body was a withered husk, and it fell forward into the dirt, utterly empty and useless once more. The crystal shard in his hand pulsed with power, completed at last and radiating much dark magic. So much even that Nobu'tan wasn't completely sure how best it could be used to his benefit.
Glancing at the withered corpse, he suddenly had a spur of the moment idea that was only too sadistic to not be done. Pulling out his wand, Nobu'tan casually waved it, summon a branch from a nearby yew tree and transfiguring it into a well crafted and ornate truncheon. To the head of this small rod he affixed the soul crystal of Lord Voldemort, and swung it around once, testing the weight and drawing the freshly deceased spirits of the other four Death Eaters into it, empowering the creation and making it rich in necromantic energies, just as he had had described to him so long ago by Teron Gorefiend about the creation of the Death Knights…
Placing the thusly empowered item upon the deprecated corpse of his fallen rival, Nobu'tan started the quick ritual that he had learned at Gul'dan's knee, which would revive a fallen Death Knight and bind their spirit back to their weapon, or in this case bind the imprisoned spirit back to its body.
The other warlocks stepped back as Lord Voldemort's eyes opened once more, glowing with Fel power and warped with the strangeness that occurred with the dead rising once more. The man rose slowly, glaring angrily at Nobu'tan, and plucked the fallen wand from the ground, pointing it at him in clear attempt to kill Nobu'tan once more, but the warlock didn't react.
The Death Knights were bound, body and soul to the warlock that raised them, and as Teron could not betray Gul'dan, now Voldemort could not harm Nobu'tan. "What is this…" the man wheezed, air whistling as it entered and left the lungs that were now only needed for the function of speech.
"You live once more, Lord Voldemort, but not as you once were," Nobu'tan declared, smirking widely at the foolish man, "I have returned you to the land of the living, my Death Knight…"
Voldemort screamed, spewing incantations at Nobu'tan, but the man's magic no longer functioned through the routes that it had in life, and therefore the wand was nothing more than dead wood in his hands.
"I think you might have more success if you take up your new implement," Nobu'tan suggested crassly, gesturing at the scepter at the corpse's feet. Voldemort turned awkwardly, inclining his head without moving his neck to look down at the glowing gem of his soul, and the skin around the eyes widened, cracking slightly under the strain the dead and dying tissue was put under.
"Now that you seem to understand part of the plight, know that you are now bound to me, as one of the greatest of my servants, and you will have power once we are finished with this world…" Nobu'tan stated, gesturing at Lucius to prepare them a portal to the next stage of their operation.
This detour at last completed, with a significant boon to his forces, Nobu'tan felt at last prepared to make his move on the Wizarding world, and draw out Dumbledore to take the last artifact from him. "Come, Lord Voldemort, think of it this way, you are now at last achieving all that you desired…" Nobu'tan commented, walking past the walking corpse, "you are immortal now, and will shortly have the opportunity to slay Albus Dumbledore for me, once you learn to harness your new powers. But for now, come and see where the world has moved on in your absence…"
And without waiting for the undead human's reaction, Nobu'tan marched through the portal to the small cave near Stonehenge where his forces awaited his arrival.
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Severus still felt somewhat unsteady on his feet after being thrown by the massive creature, and he could see that despite the Headmaster's lack of care toward his own injuries that there were several mild burns and blood trickling from various cuts that the man had sustained in their brief battle with the thing.
Most of the other schools, and their students were in an uproar, and in the midst of the chaos most of Slytherin house had simply vanished from the school, likely joining their new master and his pets as they grouped together for whatever evil they intended.
"We've been blind…" Albus said to Severus, dashing about his office, oblivious to the presence of the other Heads of House and their worries about the events at the school, especially in regards to the Tournament and their students.
Aiming his wand at the fireplace, Albus hit it with a spell, the flames roaring to life and signaling the last mage on their side to join them, which had Severus widening his eyes. "Albus, we have extra eyes in here," he said, trying to catch the old man as he paced the office wildly, even agitating his phoenix.
"There's no time!" Albus yelled back at him, surprising the other three professors with the intensity of the man. "Nobu'tan is planning to open his portal now, he had been preparing this entire time, it's clear to me now that he had taken measures to undermine our ability to keep him out of the loop."
The flames roared to life and Black stepped through, "You summoned me Albus?" he asked, casually glancing around at the extra faces, before breaking into a wide smile at seeing his old professors. They on the other hand, became ghastly white, and Minerva even raised her wand at the man before turning to Albus, "You've been working with Black Albus? Are you mad?"
Black laughed, "Mad, well yes the Headmaster might be at times Minerva, but in this case no, no we are not… I take it you plan to show them what we are up against…" the man asked Albus, still unaware of the situation.
"This evening the Tournament ended Black, and Nobu'tan escaped from our and the Ministry's grasp, along with all his followers and most of Slytherin House." Severus said hastily, still trying to stop Albus and get the man to explain in a straight answer.
Black froze, color draining a bit from his face, before he calmly took a seat and looked up at them all, "What's the next move then?" he said, portraying a sense of rationality and seriousness that even Severus paused to see.
Albus at that time had managed to collect himself somewhat, "Minerva, you and the other three Heads of House need to hold down Hogwarts while we deal with something that could eclipse the darkness of Lord Voldemort," collective gasps were sounded from the other three, and Severus felt the Dark Mark on his arm twinge at the sound of its creator.
"Something… worse?" Filius asked, stepped closer, "what could possibly be worse than that madman's reign of destruction."
"Oh I don't know… demons raining from the sky, a portal opening that could burn the entire world with a limitless army hell bent on consuming the magic right from the planet beneath our feet…" Black said idly, eyeing his own fingers as though thinking of getting them polished. Severus could tell that his old rival was quite enjoying this…
"That is enough Sirius," Albus said flatly, "We will take care of it, along with Alastor and the Ministry, you need to protect Hogwarts, because if we fail this is where we must flee to, it has the strongest wards in all of Britain, and the Legion will come here to break our spirits if they succeed in escaping the trap I plan for them."
"I… as you wish Albus…" Minerva said, still unsure what was going on, but submitting to the Headmaster's wishes, "what about the foreign students and their teachers? The parents that came to watch the Tournament?"
"They can either leave for their homes, or stay in the castle, but it is not safe for them to be out, not even on the grounds." Albus said, looking up and out of a window when his wand started to glow on his desk, "they've moved, it's time…" he said more to Severus and Black, "Severus, a message to Alastor to notify the Ministry, they're at Stonehenge," the man added, his eyes glowing briefly with the calm purple of the Arcane.
Severus quickly conjured a message Patronus, sending the doe of Lily out the window like lightning, before standing himself, "Do we proceed them to delay the enemy?" he asked.
Black was on his feet in a heartbeat, "I agree with Severus, we need to hit them now so they have no chance to regroup before Alastor arrives with the might of the Ministry."
Albus looked pensive, looking at his own wand, which Severus noted looked awfully old as it lay there on the desk, far older than Albus himself. "I feel that we have little choice, but I worry that it may be a trap for us regardless…" he said.
"Either the trap springs for us, or it springs on the Ministry, and we can hold of the demons and warlocks much better than they," Severus argued, the presence of the other Heads of House completely forgotten.
Albus sighed tiredly, "You are right, of course," he took up his wand, the end crackling with power unrestrained as he rose to his feet, "So it comes to it at last," he muttered, facing the other three professors, "I go to war, and I do not know if I will return… If I fall in battle, Severus will be Headmaster in my stead… should he too perish with me, I will select Minerva as our replacement, with Filius as her deputy…"
"Albus!" the woman said, shocked at the pronouncement, but the aged man overruled her as he gestured at a small silver instrument on his desk. "There is no time for arguments, Minerva, we leave now." The item glowed blue as the Portus activated, taking all three mages into its embrace, and to battle.
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Voldemort couldn't believe how quickly what ought to have been his victorious return had backfired upon him. Even as he moved, jarringly, through the camp of his nemesis Potter, one hand clutching the small rod that contained the totality of his soul he couldn't understand where he had gone wrong.
How Potter, of all people on the planet, had found each and every section of his soul, a process that the Dark Lord had taken many years to prepare for the likelihood of someone of the caliber of Dumbledore to try and seek out, and yet he was bested by happenstance and betrayal.
And it all cumulated in this, his own self bound body and soul to obey the child that had destroyed him. It was mockery at the lowest level, and yet there was nothing the former supreme power in the world could do to stop it.
Potter hadn't so much as spared him a glance since they moved through the portal to a small cave overlooking the muggle encampments surrounding the standing stones of the ancients. It was a place that at one point Voldemort had studied, but he had quickly passed it over for better pastures of magical learning when he discovered that all the true history surrounding it had been all but forgotten.
But now he wondered what it was that the boy sought to use the stone circle for…walking through the assorted former Death Eaters, Hogwarts students, centaur and trolls he quickly located the boy, standing around a large map of the area with Lucius, and the Malfoy Lord's son.
The boy at least had the respect to look fearful as the Dark Lord approached, even if his form resembled an inferi more than what he had originally desired his reformed body to appear like. "Oh good, you finally chose to participate rather than sulk about your defeat…" Potter said scathingly, stepping aside so that Voldemort could see the plans that they were making.
"What is all this about?" he questioned, having learned early on that he was now incapable of intentionally harming the boy, and while he hated it, not knowing what was going on galled him all the more.
"We are taking Stonehenge back from the muggles, my Lo… I mean Voldemort…" Lucius said, catching himself from falling into old practices.
"And why is that? the stones have no magic left to give our world, dried up in ages long past…" Voldemort countered, itching to use his wand on the blond fool.
"Maybe for what you considered proper magic," Potter countered, smirking, "but for the Fel powers that we now possess, the ley lines under it will do more than enough for our designs. We simply have to wait for that fool Albus Dumbledore to bring the last piece of the key…"
"Dumbledore?" Voldemort questioned, narrowing his dried and decaying eyes, "you would be a fool to fight against him to easily boy, even I refused to fight that man in fair combat, at least till I had rendered you inaccessible…"
"And how well did that work out?" Potter countered, sounding so pleased with himself. "But no, nor would I easily fight one on one versus that man, especially now that he is a fully realized Mage on top of his already impressive wizardry. All the more reason that I now need to train you in your new necromantic powers, as I need you to aid me in defeating him. I need his wand, and then we can secure ourselves within the circle and commence the ritual that will sunder this world, opening up the pathway for the Legion to break through at last."
Voldemort wasn't sure about this plan, nor the fact that he was being forced to face off against Dumbledore in a time and fashion that he was not comfortable with, but the boy was already moving on, setting out his forces to take the circle and entrench themselves deeply into the surrounding grasslands, even as those who used to be his faithful followers could pile together into the center of the circle, and begin tracing runes and preparing for some powerful ritual.
From what was described, Voldemort could guess that they were planning to summon something large and powerful from another world or dimension, but barely anyone paid much attention to him as it was, and he had little choice but to follow the boy around in pained silence until Potter finally turned to him.
"So, as you may guess your magic no longer comes from within you, as you are dead." He said bluntly. Even though Voldemort had accepted this, it was still a great blow to his pride to hear it said aloud.
"You need to learn, and quickly, to draw the power of magic from the life and death of those around you, as well as the ley lines of magic that run under our feet. This is a better place and most to do so, as the lines here are some of the strongest in the region, next to Hogwarts itself…"
Voldemort understood some of the concepts that the boy mentioned, and for the first time in many years, and while he was unused to such magic, made the attempt to adapt to this form.