By the time Harry reached Gryffindor tower, his arms were throbbing. It felt as if he had been through an intense workout. This was offset by the euphoric effect of having magic thrum through his entire being. He did not know it, but his eyes were now permanently glowing.
'Harry!'
Harry took in a deep breath. 'Hermione,' he said in a barely controlled voice.
Breathy voices, sounding like the whispers of a lover, assaulted his mind. They demanded that he strike down the girl in front of him down. Make her suffer, they said. Break her ... kill her slowly...
Harry gave a small shake of his head as he clamped down on the whispers. His task was made harder by what he had learnt a few short hours ago. The desire to blast Hermione (Granger! he thought furiously) out of existence was very powerful. His fingers twitched.
'I heard about Dumbledore,' Hermione babbled on, unaware of the internal struggle that her friend was going through. 'Did you find ... it?' she whispered.
'Um, no, not really,' Harry's voice sounded far away as he replied. With an effort, he fished out Regulus' locket. He had barely remembered taking the object at that time.
He removing the note from the locket, he handed it to her, saying, 'I think I'll be going now.' Not sparing her a second glance, he moved towards the dorms to change his clothes.
Hermione stared at Harry's retreating back. Dumbledore's loss had hit them all hard. She remembered the numbness that she felt when Professor McGonagall had announced his death in the Great Hall during breakfast. But she supposed that it had hit Harry the hardest. His eyes were quite bright, and he seemed to be moving around as if in shock. Folding the note, she went off in search for Ron. From previous experience, she knew that Harry preferred to be left alone. Getting him to open up generally was impossible and resulted in the person talking to him getting their head bitten off. She and Ron would decide what to do in the meantime and then plan their next move.
As she left for the Great Hall, Hermione wondered about Draco Malfoy. According to Professor McGonagall, the boy had been kidnapped by the Death Eaters and used as bait. She did not believe that. Something was quite suspicious about that story.
Once he was inside the blessedly empty dorm, Harry sank down on his bed and looked at his trembling hands. He noticed that they felt particularly warm. His fingers were also glowing. A closer look at his palms revealed that the various lines that crisscrossed them were now made up with tiny symbols of the Hallows. Each triangle connected to the other by the line that represented the wand. Interestingly enough, his lifeline was gone altogether.
All that was secondary to the voices that now had now quietened. Harry had no idea where that had come from. Was it the essence of the Hallows talking to him? Or was he going mad?
Then again, he was pretty angry at Hermione. But did that mean that he wanted to extract immediate vengeance on her?
Perhaps it was the euphoria of being free of Dumbledore, or perhaps it was the sense of power coursing through him. Whatever it was, Harry decided to just forget about the bitch and that ginger twat. Sure, he was angry, but at the same time, they weren't worth it.
He had bigger fish to fry.
He fell back on his bed. A glance outside showed a beautiful day with nary a cloud in the sky.
He met Neville, Susan and Daphne in the Great Hall at lunch a few minutes afterwards. After the meal, he told them of the events of the last night. He also told them what he had uncovered of Dumbledore's nefarious plot and how the man had been manipulating him. He also told them of the role Weasley and Granger had played in the old man's despicable conspiracy, sharing with them a theory he had recently came up with. That the three had also planned on accessing Harry's family fortunes upon his death.
'I bet Weasley and Granger also planned on cashing in on the fame of being associated with the "Boy Who Lived" as well.' Harry concluded darkly.
His audience looked disturbed and faintly disgusted to say the least.
'We should do something about this,' Neville said, seated opposite Harry. He was breathing quickly, clearly livid. 'We cannot let this stand.' Susan, who was sitting next to him, squeezed his hand soothingly.
'No,' Harry said softly. 'We do nothing. This year is nearly over, and then we have one last year. I plan on forgetting them. They really aren't worth it. Why should they matter when I have real friends?' he smiled at them all, his right hand squeezing Daphne's left.
Reluctantly, his friends agreed to the decision.
Classes for the remainder of the term were suspended and exams postponed. Many students were taken home by anxious parents. The inns in Hogsmeade were filled to capacity by wizards and witches who had come to pay their respects for it was announced shortly that Dumbledore would be buried in Hogwarts grounds; technically a first for any headmaster of the ancient institution.
Harry was ambivalent about this decision. While he loathed the idea of Dumbledore being buried in the grounds, there was the advantage that it would be easier to use the body to power the castle wards. Besides, while he may be the heir of two founders, and the holder of the wards, he still did not have the power to change the decision of the Governors, or overrule them.
The upshot of this was that in addition to the inns being filled to capacity, the castle played host to several important dignitaries, the most prominent of which was the Minister of Magic and her entourage, something that made Susan happy and Neville nervous. Aurors had also come by the morning after Dumbledore's death to investigate the scene and take eyewitness statements. As the star witness, Harry was the first to be interviewed that very evening. The day after that, warrants were issued for the arrest of Severus Snape.
The warm June weather filled with bright sunny days and clear blue skies seemed to mock the inhabitants of the castle. Everyone inside was affected in one way or another.
Harry spent his days with his friends and avoiding the members of the Weasley family. Although he tried his level best to sound happy, he could not help the ache in his heart. The betrayal he had experienced had affected him deeply, deeper than he cared to admit out loud.
Eventually he took to quietly leaving the castle in the mornings, and losing himself either in different places in the Muggle world or in his properties, taking care to put up an appearance during lunch and dinner at the very least. Thanks to the chaos brought on by the outsiders and Dumbledore's death, none of the professors were there to monitor who left the school.
He also attended Luna's funeral which was held at her house. There was quite an impressive gathering that came together to watch Xenophilius put his only daughter to rest. Along with Harry and his three friends, many of his acquaintances from Hogwarts had also attended. The entirety of Ravenclaw House from Fifth year to Seventh was also present along with their Head of House. Harry had heard that the Charms Master had verbally flayed them over their deplorable treatment of the quiet girl before ordering them to the funeral, saying that the least they could do is honour her posthumously.
All in all, Harry wasn't the only person feeling guilty in the interment.
The most difficult part of the funeral, however, was the presence of the Weasley family. Along with Molly and Arthur, Ginny, Ron, and the twins were also present. Avoiding them was quite a challenge. But Harry managed, using his necklace to great effect.
On the Monday of the Royal Ascot Week, (incidentally a day before Dumbledore's funeral) saw Harry put on his new specially tailored morning suit for the first time. He had given his measurements to a tailor recommended by Augusta Longbottom during the Easter holidays in anticipation for this day, the day he was to be installed as a Knight Companion of The Most Noble Order of the Garter.
Examining his reflection in the mirror, he picked up his cane, an elaborate affair made of mahogany topped with a large ball of crystal (Harry suspected it was diamond) that he had found in his vaults, and exited the master bedroom of the recently renovated Potter ancestral manor where he and Neville had stayed the night over. He met Neville, resplendent in a similar suit but wearing a silk-lined top hat and wielding an umbrella, as the blond was exiting his room.
'Ready?'
Responding with a nod, the Longbottom heir fell in step with Harry as he made his way to the fireplace.
A short Floo ride later, they were in Daphne's house where his fiancé and Susan were waiting for the boys wearing modest but fashionable dresses.
The reason that the three teenagers were accompanying Harry was twofold. The first reason was that Harry was allowed to invite a maximum of three people as guests and the second being that Augusta Longbottom, the Minister and Harry's future in-laws, who, while equally (if not more) important could not attend due to Dumbledore's funeral.
In the wizarding world, a traditional wizarding funeral entailed the following: first, the family and friends of the deceased would gather together and rituals would be conducted to ensure that the deceased found peace, the body being laid out in state so that one could pay their respects. After that, would be the actual funeral where the body would be either cremated or buried. After the funeral, a meeting would be held where the living would appeal to magic to ensure the safe passage of the departed soul into the next realm. In the case of a cremation, this was usually followed by a ritualistic scattering of the ashes.
Normally, for the average individual (like Luna) all of that could be finished and done within a day, two at the most. But for important or rich individuals (like Dumbledore) it took three days.
Thanks to their age, Harry and his friends were not required to attend in the first and third days, as, by tradition, the participants had to be either twenty five (if they were not of the deceased's immediate family) or of age (if they were) to take part in the proceedings.
Harry's request to keep the ceremony and his investiture under wraps had the adults quietly pulling the children out of the school citing personal reasons. They all felt that the children could use a day off and possibly forget about the war.
Not that it stopped them from extensively lecturing their offspring about how to behave and act in such a high society event. Harry was the worst off. He was lectured two different times, once each by Daphne's parents, and Augusta Longbottom. The speeches he was given were longer than his peers as he considered to be less experienced than them.
Really, he should be thankful. Amelia Bones was too busy in her capacity as Minister to lecture him a third time, and Daphne's parents did not know him long enough to make it too arduous a process.
'Where are your parents, Daphne?' Harry asked curiously after the two sets of teenagers spent a suitable amount of time gushing over how the other looked.
'They left a few minutes before you arrived,' his fiancé replied.
'Too bad, I was hoping to greet them. Anyway, shall we?' he looked at the ladies, particularly at Susan, enquiringly.
'Oh, yes,' after some rooting around, Susan fished the portkey, a stuffed toy haddock, out of her handbag.
A whirlwind ride later, the four were deposited in one of the antechambers off the throne room in Windsor Castle, where the three left to find their seats as Harry was ushered to another room where he put on his robes.
To all present, the Garter Day Ceremony was one of pomp and splendour, harkening back to the days when the sovereign was not just a figurehead of the government of Great Britain, but Great Britain herself in flesh and bone. The men were all resplendent in top hats and morning suits and the women beautiful in their various colourful dresses, hats and fascinators.
Upon having his name called out, Harry strode confidently, making sure to focus in front of him so as to not lose his nerve. Kneeling in front of the sovereign, his voice sounded even and sure as he recited his lines, a by-product of the numerous rehearsals and repetitions he had gone through.
After the investiture of the new members of the Order of the Garter (of which there was only one), Her Majesty, The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh entertained the guests to a sumptuous luncheon in the Waterloo Chamber.
Harry had visited the castle once, during the summer holidays last year. He remembered being impressed with the large high ceilinged room and the meticulously arraigned table (which in his estimation was as large as one of the House Tables). Never did he think that he would be sitting down there having a formal three course meal with members of the royalty.
Having received a crash course on how to eat at such an event, he wasn't perfectly sure on what to do. So he surreptitiously observed Daphne and Neville (who were seated on either side of him) to fill in the gaps while using what he had learnt in Occlumency to keep track of what those present in his immediate vicinity were saying, and answering when spoken to.
The food in itself was interesting, the presentation more so. Harry never had seen a fruit salad such as this before. It comprised of fresh orange, grape fruit, Malaga grapes, banana, peach, and pineapple cut into very small pieces, and served in a small bowl shaped glass that fit into a much larger and long-stemmed champagne glass that held crushed ice to keep the fruit cool. This was accompanied by either Pol Roget Champagne or various other non alcoholic beverages. Needless to say, the teenagers were quick to select the champagne.
Finishing the last course (a filet of smoked salmon baked with potato scales and served with braised stewed lentils and minted peas), Harry thought that he could very well get used to this. He would have to get his in-laws to properly teach him more about fine dining.
Wearing their blue velvet robes with the badge of the Order (St George's Cross within the Garter surrounded by radiating silver beams) on the left shoulder, and black velvet hats with a white ostrich feather plume and heavy gold collar (among other accoutrements) the Knights proceeded down on foot through the Upper, Middle and Lower Wards of the castle to St. George's Chapel led by the Constable and Governor of Windsor Castle and the Military Knights of Windsor.
A short service was held there, at the beginning of which saw Sir Harry Potter-Black's banner of arms (an elaborate shield that jointly showcased the Potter, Black and Slytherin crests supported by a griffin and a basilisk and encircled by both the garter and the collar as was his right as Knight Companion of the Order) being displayed together with a helmet, crest and sword and an enamelled stallplate.
After the service, they returned to the castle by carriage. It was truly one of the most memorable days of Harry's young life.
The funeral of Sir Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Knight Grand Cross of the Ancient Order of Merlin, the four hundred and ninety sixth Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the three hundred and thirteenth Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation Of Wizards and the five hundredth Headmaster of Hogwarts took place on a warm summer's day in June.
There wasn't a cloud to be seen in the periwinkle blue sky as various wizards and witches ranging from the influential and important to the common folk found their seats in front of a marble table set up near the lake.
The funeral brought forth a mixture of emotions for Harry. There was the happiness and relief that he had rid himself of a manipulative old man bent on his destruction. But it was tempered by the sadness that such a great man had left the earth. While Harry ended up hating the man, a part of him still looked up to the venerable headmaster and could not help the sadness. On top of that was the sting of betrayal that was still fresh.
Harry thought that Luna's funeral was big. But that was before Dumbledore's funeral. And it was no surprise: many people knew the man or knew about him. Generations of witches and wizards had been taught by him or had him as their headmaster.
And it wasn't just the humans who had come to pay homage to the famed defeater of Grindlewald. The Merpeople had sent their orchestra who played a beautiful and haunting song that spoke clearly of loss and despair.
Firenze was also in attendance, standing like a silent sentinel near the lake. His herd were also spotted on the edge of the forest.
Looking at the giant Grawp comforting his half-brother, Harry wondered if there would be so many people at his funeral (though he wondered if he would even need to worry about his funeral). His attention was riveted to the front again as several people screamed.
As the last of the flames died, revealing a magnificent white tomb, Harry wondered if this meant that Fawkes had decided to join his master (or was it "companion"?). He knew that phoenixes laid eggs, so logically it meant that they also died. Permanently that is. Otherwise, the world would be full of immortal fiery birds. He did know how one went about getting a phoenix as a pet. It was something that he planned on doing. If Dumbledore could do it, then so could he.
He was brought out of his musings when a sharp pain went up his forearms. Wincing, he flexed his muscles a bit, trying to ease the pain. Earlier on, he had discovered that they did not pain so much when he cast magic.
One of the first things he had noticed as the Master of Death was that he could cast magic wandlessly. However, this was easier said than done. Earlier on, before he had united the Hallows, he was capable of performing a few basic spells without a wand. But, the more complex spells needed wand movements. And he wasn't sure how to replicate those without a wand.
So, he fashioned a replica of his old wand. The materials he used were different though. While the wood was still from a holly tree, instead of the basilisk fang, he used elephant ivory.
He then used this "wand" to cast spells. Along with making spell casting easier, this also gave him an edge as people would underestimate his true talent.
Of course, he had to develop that first. Right now, he was diligently working on improving his wandless capabilities. He knew that he would need it in the duel with Voldemort. He had a hunch that he could overcome the wand movements using intent and shaping the magic himself. He just needed to find the right key.
Standing up, Harry looked at his friends. He had not told them yet about the whole "Master of Death" thing, and frankly wasn't sure if he should.
That was overshadowed by the more pressing issue of what to do with Voldemort. Harry knew he had to end the wizard, and he also knew the location of said wizard. However, it was the execution that had him stumped. How was he going to overcome Voldemort and, more importantly, deal with those Death Eaters?
'Lord Potter?'
Harry turned around to see a distinguished looking and expensively dressed old gentleman with short white hair and a closely cropped Vandyke beard standing behind him. 'Yes?' he asked.
'I was wondering if you could spare some of your time...'
Harry shrugged, 'Sure,' he said.
The old man beamed. 'Excellent. Please, walk with me.' With that, he led Harry around the grounds.
'Ah Hogwarts,' the old man gave the reminiscent sigh of one who had attended the school a long time back and now was fondly remembering the days gone by. 'Still hasn't changed.'
They stopped at a copse of trees that afforded them privacy.
'With your permission, child?' the old man asked as he withdrew his wand and gestured around them.
Harry understood the unspoken statement. 'Go ahead.'
The old man then started weaving an impressive array of privacy charms and wards around them, his movements fluid and graceful, speaking of great experience, yet, with the kind of vigour belonged to a man decades younger than him.
'Not to be rude, sir, but have we met before?' Harry asked politely once the man was done.
The old man chuckled. 'Ah, I suppose I haven't introduced myself properly, now have I?' his voice was slow, almost drawling. 'Well, I go by many names, Harry, may I call you Harry?' getting a nod, the old man continued. 'Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I go by many names. But I believe you know me as Nicholas Flamel.'
Harry just stared. 'Nicholas?' he finally said. 'Nicholas Flamel?'
'Yes,' the man replied. 'You know, famed alchemist, inventor of the famed Philosopher's Stone, although, I would like to say "discoverer," not that many people agree, but anyway, yes. I am that Nicholas Flamel.'
'I thought you would be older,' Harry replied, unthinking.
'Oh I'm sorry,' Flamel said with a heavy amount of sarcasm. 'Do I not look six hundred and seventy-one enough for you? I had no idea that I was supposed to look my age.' He gave Harry a withering look. 'What were you expecting? A mess of wrinkles on my face like Grisly? Or perhaps copious amounts of facial hair like Doubledork?'
Unable to help himself, Harry snorted. '"Doubledork"?' he asked.
'Yes,' Flamel replied. 'That's what I call Mr I'm-So-Important over there.' he jerked his head irritably towards the tomb.
Harry had a feeling that he shouldn't pursue the subject. 'Who's "Grisly"?' he asked instead.
'You would know her as Madam Marchbanks. I make it a practise to mangle people's names. It amuses me. Want to hear yours? I assure you it's quite hilarious.'
'No, I'm fine, thanks,' Harry replied. 'What was it that you wanted to talk about?'
'Ah yes.' Flamel still had a scowl on his face. 'Well, I came to discuss a potential alliance with you.' A small amount of disgust was still evident in his tone. Evidently mentioning his age had struck a nerve.
'Um, OK ...' Harry said slowly. 'What kind of alliance?'
'A political one, of course,' Flamel replied as if Harry was asking a stupid question. 'You see, Harry, I believe that we share similar goals. I also believe that you would be suited to continuing what I had with your grandfathers, both the Potter and Black ones.'
'And what would those be.'
'To ensure that the balance of power is made right,' Flamel responded. 'For too long now, those less deserving of power have ruled while we hide from them like cockroaches. I think that it's about damn time that we take back what's ours.'
'Are you talking about what I think you are talking about?' Harry said suspiciously. 'If you are, then why should I align myself with you? Won't Voldemort be a better idea?' He had a strong suspicion that what Flamel was talking about was the wholesale eradication of non-magical humans. While Harry was quite happy to be rid of Muggles, talking about it was one thing, and doing it another.
Flamel chuckled softly. 'That idiot?' he snorted again. 'Please, the twit only wants to rule over the world. He does not care about the populace! If things were left to him, we'd all die out! He would be the end of humanity and magic. No, my goals are different.' He had a calculating look on his face. 'At the very least you can agree that we need to secure ourselves from the Muggles?'
'Yes,' Harry said without hesitation.
'Good, then I propose an alliance. I will help you deal with Druckermort. While I'm sure that your little conspiracy with Drano Malformed has a lot of potential, you still will need to deal with his Death Eaters. I have the means and resources to take care of that problem.'
'Wait, how did you know about that?' Harry said alarmed.
Flamel smiled enigmatically. 'Well, well, well ... took you long enough to ask. Now that's for me to know. Look at it this way; you know of my continued existence and some of my intentions and I know about the fact that you conspired to murder Dumbasadoor. I'd say that we are even here.'
Harry eyed the man warily. It just hit him that Flamel had been on this planet for nearly seven centuries now. And that he was clever enough to find the key to immortality. Despite his name calling (which was admittedly a little amusing) Nicholas Flamel was a dangerous man.
'How are you still alive anyway? I thought that your stone was destroyed.'
Flamel gave a cold smile, a triumphant gleam in his eye. 'Yes, that ... I was wondering when you would get around to asking me that question too. Personally I thought it would be your first question upon learning my name. Let me put it this way, are you sure that the stone that you saw in your first year was the real stone? Also, do you think that Dumbledore cannot be fooled by someone with centuries more experience than him?'
'Ah,' Harry paused for a moment, considering his options. Here was an experienced, wily and crafty (if slightly mad) man who was willing to help him end Voldemort. In return, he asked for an alliance to deal with Muggles. Harry wasn't exactly averse to the condition. The voices in his head, ever present, whispered to him to take this offer, to gain more power. Harry found himself listening to them.
'Very well,' he said finally. 'I will help you with the Muggle problem if you help me with Dru – I mean – Voldemort.'
'I wasn't planning on asking anything more, boy,' Flamel replied amusedly. 'I could use that popularity you will no doubt engender after you defeat that moron. Now, I shall owl you when I have a contract drawn up. We will meet at Gringotts to sign it. Perhaps one of your little friends will be willing to act as a witness.'
'How did you know about my agreement with Draco?' Harry asked again.
'That is for me to know, and you to find out.' Flamel said with a twinkle in his eye. Drawing his wand out, he cancelled the charms and wards. 'Perhaps later on, in the off chance that we build some trust between us, I will tell you how I know.'
He turned to go.
'Wait,' Harry said. 'What do you mean when you said that both my grandfathers had a similar goal?'
Flamel only smiled enigmatically. 'Come to Gringotts and find out.'
With that parting shot, the alchemist walked briskly away from Harry, heading to the front gates, his stride long and purposeful.
Draco Malfoy sat down at the dining table in his house. He silently watched as the others filled into the room, waiting for their lord and master.
It had been nearly a week since Dumbledore's death. The Dark Lord had not been present at the night of the deed as he had departed on a journey overseas a few days back. Nevertheless, he had soon returned the day after to hear the news about the death of his greatest rival.
Standing in front of the fireplace, Voldemort took a long moment to contemplate the crackling logs before saying in his high cold voice, 'Draco, tell me what happened that night.'
Draco, who was sitting next to Snape in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor swallowed nervously and stood up. He gave his account of the night Dumbledore had died, starting from the Death Eaters entering Hogwarts all the way to meeting Bellatrix just inside the castle gates as they made their hasty escape. He had no idea how the other Death Eaters had fallen as they had managed to gain quite a lead on the rest. But from reports the next day, it was more than clear that they had not made it.
'Sit down Draco,' Voldemort said softly, turning around.
To say that he had not been pleased to hear about the deaths of the Carrow siblings, Yaxley and Rowle was like saying that it was slightly nippy in Antarctica. Add in Greyback's capture, and Voldemort was positively seething.
'We shall make those fools pay for their deaths.' He said softly, circling Snape and Draco, his red eyes aglow with restrained malice and rage. 'I do not blame the two of you for our losses.' Voldemort said softly after a long pause right behind Draco.
Even though his face was neutral as he circled back in front of the two Death Eaters, Voldemort's eyes showed his amusement at making the boy jerk in surprise.
Turning to the fireplace again, Voldemort watched the flames dance before speaking up again, his voice contrastingly cold to the blaze. 'So I see that you completed the task I set for you, Draco.'
'Indeed, master,' Draco spoke up quickly. 'Dumbledore is dead just as you wanted him.'
'Yes,' Voldemort said softly, his back still turned towards them. 'And he died by your hand...?'
'Yes, master,' Figuring that with no witnesses present to the bad decisions he had made on the night of the battle, Draco felt that he could paint himself in a better light. His claim of being the one who killed Dumbledore was a bold move on his part. But he figured that if he said this before Snape got a chance to tell his side of the story, then he would be able to curry favour with the Dark Lord.
He ignored the furtive glance Snape sent his way. After all, it had been his plan and his efforts, not Snape's, that got the headmaster killed.
Of course, there was Potter's involvement, but between the vow and what he feared the Dark Lord might do to him, Draco decided not to enlighten Him about it.
Still facing the fireplace, Voldemort turned his head fractionally to look at Draco from the corner of his eye. 'And how did it feel to take another life, Draco?' his eye narrowed imperceptibly.
Draco licked his lips, unexpectedly put on the spot. 'It was hard, sir,' he began slowly. 'But after I said the last syllable I –'
He was cut off from saying more as Voldemort unexpectedly started laughing. The high, cold laughter made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
With a blur of motion, faster than Draco could comprehend, Voldemort had turned around, his wand extended.
Draco did not have any time to move as the spell hit him full on. At first he did not feel anything, but suddenly, he winced as he felt a line of fire on his bottom.
As another line appeared, he hissed. It felt like a whip was being used on his skin.
With a yelp, he fell off his seat and onto the floor. He was not prepared for the pain when it erupted on his back. Soon enough, he was writhing on the floor, his body jerking involuntarily as the intervals became shorter and the potency increased.
Voldemort stood over him, smirking, as Draco jerked around, trying to use his hands to ward off the pain in vain. With a flick, he finally lifted the spell.
'Draco, Draco, Draco,' he cooed, sounding quite dangerous as he loomed over the silently weeping boy. 'You are a terrible liar. Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes ... they tell the truth.' Seeing the horrified expression on the boy's face, Voldemort chuckled. 'I don't even need to tear down those shields you have put up around your mind, even though I could do it easily, to know that much.' With his foot, he nudged the blond onto his back. The boy hissed as his abused flesh came into contact with the floor. 'Don't think so highly of yourself, boy. I have better things to do than dip into that hormonal cesspool you call a mind.' He pinned the boy by placing his foot on the blond's chest. Leaning forward, he tisked, 'Lying ... so childish ... not surprising, coming from a little boy.' He sneered. 'And so you get punished like a little boy. Did that spanking hex hurt?' he asked in mock concern.
Not waiting for Draco to reply, Voldemort looked up to Snape, his foot still on Draco. 'Severus, I am disappointed. Surely as the boy's teacher, you know to educate him that lying is not acceptable?'
'When the student isn't willing, there is nothing that the best of teachers can do, my lord,' Snape replied smoothly.
Voldemort chuckled, 'Ah, Severus, eloquent as always. But I do not blame you. Dumbledore is known to show a soft spot for all those whelps. It is rather pathetic of him.'
'Indeed, my lord.'
'Or should I say "was" ...' the Dark Lord trailed off thoughtfully. 'It is quite satisfying to know that Dumbledore is finally dead.' He savoured the moment, his eyes closed.
Red eyes suddenly opened as Voldemort looked down at Draco, surveying him as a hungry eagle might look at a tasty lamb. 'You know, boy, Severus has been reporting your progress to me for the whole year now. He told me all of your failures.' He leaned down on Draco's chest, putting his weight on his foot. 'About how he had to cover for you,' he shifted his weight a bit more. 'And that Dumbledore was aware of your plans within a day after that incident with the necklace.' Draco groaned as the pressure increased, his ribs creaking under Voldemort's weight as his master ground the heel of his boot in for good measure.
'I should kill you for your incompetence. But you did the job, however pathetically it was done. So I shall spare you and your family.'
With the boy still pinned down, Voldemort aimed his wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse, a malevolent and sadistic leer on his face as he watched Draco writhe beneath his foot.
Lifting his wand, he looked at the panting and crying form below him. 'And that, little boy is how a man is punished.' He nudged him with his foot. 'Congratulations,' he said mockingly. Lifting his foot off the boy, he moved to the door.
'Severus, come,' he said as he opened the door. 'Leave the blubbering baby behind. Hopefully he will grow up enough to leave the room like a man, however unlikely that may be.' he sneered. 'His mummy probably will be the first in here within minutes to coddle him. Perhaps even change his nappy and give him his milk while she is at it.'
Voldemort mentally snorted as he left the room. Considering that the boy had grown up in the house, one would think that he would know that there was a mirror set up over the fireplace.
He had seen the minute flicker of surprise in Severus' eyes and had caught the clandestine glance the Potions master had sent to the boy when Draco had made his false claims.
Of course, there was the small problem of him having placed a Notice Me Not Charm on the mirror...
Draco slowly sat up and dragged himself to one of the armchairs.
He never felt so humiliated in his life. Voldemort might call that a spanking hex, but Draco knew differently. His parents had used the hex on him a few times in the past in the rare times he had misbehaved. It was never as brutally painful as this. Nor was it used on his back. He felt a bit of wetness there and he knew that he was bleeding a little.
Draco did not know what he hated more, the pain or the fact that Voldemort called what he did a "punishment". It was more along the lines of torture.
Getting up on trembling legs, he went to his room. He carefully opened a drawer and shifted the contents inside, looking at the mirror within.
After speaking to him and Severus, the Dark Lord had left to places unknown. He had returned the previous night and had called for a conference in the dining room with his Death Eaters.
And so here he was, waiting fearfully for the Dark Lord to come. He never did enjoy being in the man's presence.
'We have great news, my friends,' Voldemort spoke up, interrupting Draco's thoughts. 'Thanks to the efforts of a few brave individuals, Dumbledore is now dead.' Before the Death Eaters could give any reaction, he continued speaking,, his voice convincingly ponderous and sorrowful. 'And yet, we have lost four valuable members of our forces. Yaxley, The Carrow siblings and Rowle will be missed.' Following his cue, they all bent their heads in silence.
'However, we shall not let their deaths be in vain.' Voldemort said a minute later, the fire casting an odd light on his red eyes. 'We shall show those scum true terror ...' he trailed off, looking thoughtful.
'However, before we begin plans of attack, we must speak of the bigger plans. Yaxley was the main person behind the infiltration of the Ministry. I trust that you, Dolohov can take up the slack?'
The man in question turned his twisted face to Voldemort. 'Yes, my Lord. The minute we suspected Yaxley's death, I rounded up a few Death Eaters and we immediately set off that night itself to renew the Imperius curses placed on his victims before they could fully throw the curse off.'
'Excellent,' Voldemort sounded pleased. 'One rarely gets to see such drive and initiative, don't you agree, Malfoy?'
Lucius started in surprise. 'M-my Lord?'
'Tut, tut, Lucius,' Voldemort said mockingly as the other Death Eaters sniggered. 'Do pay attention. Although,' he cocked his head to the side inquisitively, studying the blond man's unnaturally pale face, baggy eyes and haggard look. 'You do look a bit unwell ... And unhappy. Something displeases you, Lucius?'
'Is it my presence? Does the fact that I reside in your house make you discontent?' Voldemort continued when the man did not answer, his red eyes wide with malice. 'Despite the fact that I gave you liberty, you and your family seem quite ungrateful.'
'N-no my Lord,' Draco had never heard his father stutter like this before. He hated it. Yet he was too afraid for it to show. He carefully averted his eyes, making sure not to meet Voldemort's gaze. His mother seemed to share his thoughts for she too kept her gaze resolutely on the far wall.
Voldemort hissed, 'Such lies, Lucius.' The hissing did not stop but continued, making the collective at the table flinch as Nagini extended her impressive length from the floor to drape herself around Voldemort.
'My Lord,' Bellatrix spoke up passionately, looking at Voldemort, who was idly stroking the snake's head, with an almost devotional look on her face. 'It is an honour to have your presence in our house. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to have one such as you staying with us.'
'Nothing, Bellatrix?' Voldemort said with glee. 'Not even after the happy event I hear has taken place in your family?'
'I – I don't understand, my Lord...' Bellatrix trailed off uncertainly. The other Death Eaters all leaned forward eagerly, watching the show.
'I believe congratulations are in order,' Voldemort continued. 'Your niece has apparently found herself a man, the Werewolf, Lupin, I believe. She is also expecting a child. Congratulations, Bellatrix, you will soon be a great Aunt. You, Lucius and Narcissa must be so proud.'
There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys' humiliation. Bellatrix's face had turned an ugly, blotchy red.
'She is no niece of ours, my Lord,' she said over the outpouring of mirth. 'I consider neither her nor her mother family.'
'Of course not, and if what Snape tells me is right, then the feeling is mutual.' Voldemort's quiet voice cut through the laughter effectively.
'My Lord?'
'Oh don't you know, Bellatrix?' Voldemort said with a sadistic smile on his face. 'Dumbledore has told my trusted spy here that Sirius Black has not only managed to adopt Harry Potter into the Black family and make him his heir, but has also managed to do it so thoroughly that the boy has the power to take members back into the family's fold ... and at the same time, disinherit them...'
There was a pin drop's silence at the news.
'What?' Bellatrix finally shrieked in shock.
'Yes, my dear,' Voldemort looked at the female Death Eater. 'Potter (or is it Potter-Black) has managed to cast you out of the Black family.' His lips stretched into a leer. 'I guess we have a blood traitor with us, now that Bellatrix here cannot call herself a Black anymore...'
The table was silent at the news. While there was no love lost between Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters sitting at the table, the fact was that none of them (including Rodolphus Lestrange) wanted to be the target for the obviously enraged witch's ire.
'That pathetic little Half-Blood, I am going to –'
'You are going to do nothing, Bellatrix.' Voldemort interrupted softly, red eyes flashing in the firelight. He stared intently at the volatile Death Eater, till she looked away, cowed.
Satisfied, Voldemort continued glaring at the whole table. 'None of you are doing anything. That boy is mine.' Taking a contemplative look he leaned back, staring at nothing in particular. 'I have made many mistakes when it comes to the boy. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs. I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.
'But before I go and kill Potter, I shall need to borrow a wand from one of you.'
Voldemort looked around at the silent table. None of his Death Eaters would meet his eyes. They all shifted uncomfortably, as if he had asked to borrow a limb.
'No volunteers? Very well, Lucius, I don't see any reason for you to be with a wand. So if you please.' He held out his hand expectantly.
Accepting the wand from the reluctant pureblood, Voldemort absently compared his wand to Malfoy's as the rest of the Death Eaters revelled in their colleague's humiliation.
'I guess this will have to do,' Voldemort sneered pocketing his wand along with the shorter one. 'Don't worry too much, Lucius, I will return the wand when I am done killing the boy. After all, it does not have much use for me otherwise.' He waited till the renewed sniggers died out before speaking again. 'Now, we shall make the Light regret crossing us. We have stayed in the shadows for much too long now. I think it is time for them to realise that their precious prison is not as secure as they thought it to be and had already been breached under their noses. We shall attack after three days have passed.'
'My Lord, won't it be better to do this when they are busy with Dumbledore's funeral?' one Death Eater spoke up nervously. 'Surely doing it when the old fool is being mourned would result in more success.'
Red eyes glared at the speaker. 'I repeat,' he said in a low dangerous voice. 'We shall attack after three days have passed. Do not make me repeat myself a third time or it will be your last.'
'Y – Yes, my Lord.'
'Dumbledore may be many things; he was a fool and a Mudblood lover, and I am happy to see him dead. But at the same time, I also respect him. For all his faults, he was a great wizard. And I honour that.'
Standing up, he surveyed the others. 'Bellatrix, you have the privilege of organising the attack. Dolohov, coordinate with her and see if you can use this to your advantage. I have business to attend to elsewhere. That is all.'
He swept from the room.
On his way to his chambers, he looked at Malfoy's wand one more time. As much as he hated using another's wand (especially a wand as inferior as this) it was the only solution available to him. All of the wand makers he had met had presented similar solution. Even Gregorovitch, a man who had a reputation rivalling Ollivander, had said the same thing. But he had also come across some more information.
He had heard whispers of a fabled wand of legend. A wand of such immense power that it had made quite a name for itself, being passed down over the years as its various masters had used it to carve a bloody path in history with it. It was called the Death Stick, or the Wand of Destiny.
Voldemort wanted this wand, if it existed. Not only will he use it to destroy the boy, but with such a powerful wand, he would be able to rule over the world.
He had not been able to ask Gregorovitch about the wand yet. But there was nothing stopping him now.
With that resolution, Voldemort stepped out into the balcony of his chambers and lifted off from the ground. Attaining the correct altitude, he headed east, following the tracking charm he had placed on the unsuspecting wand maker.
Severus Snape waited till the other Death Eaters had dispersed till it was just him, the Malfoys and more importantly, Bellatrix Lestrange. Rodolphus had been quick to leave the room, not wanting to be a target for his wife's temper. For he knew, like the rest of the Death Eaters, just by looking into her eyes, that by bringing up that subject might just land them into an early grave.
Severus, on the other hand, was not in that kind of danger. After all, he had managed to curry favour with the Dark Lord enough that should she try something, He would not be pleased with her. And Bellatrix knew that.
Cold black eyes met insane dark eyes across the room. 'What lies did you make up, Snape?'
Smirking, Severus replied coolly. 'Lies? I do not lie, Bellatrix. That was the truth. Dumbledore himself told me this fascinating bit of information.'
Bellatrix's only response was to quicken her breathing as she clenched shaking fists.
Sneering, Snape pressed his advantage. 'Really, Bellatrix, you should thank me.'
'Why?' Narcissa was the one to reply, her voice sharp.
'Because,' he said with his eyes still fixed on Bellatrix. 'I did not tell him that Potter took your entire personal fortune as well. Because that technically makes you like a Weasley, penniless and a blood traitor.'
He mentally cheered when he saw her face pale as a look of unmitigated terror became evident in her eyes. It proved his hunch that Voldemort had given Bellatrix something of immeasurable value. Something so dear to him, that the Dark Lord would be very angry if he found out about its loss.
Albus had told him that there were some objects that held the key to Voldemort's immortality when telling him about the change in the plan. Severus did not know what these objects were, nor did he know how they kept him immortal. Frankly he did not care anyway. Nor did he care about the boy's continued existence. All that mattered that there was a way to defeat the bastard and avenge Lily's death.
'I see that our master had entrusted something to you, just like Lucius here, and that object was of great if not greater importance to him as the diary that Lucius carelessly used. I wonder what the Dark Lord would do if such information were to be made known to him.' He said silkily. 'How angry will he be if he finds out that you failed, just like Lucius here, in keeping it safe?'
'It won't be possible for you to tell him that if I kill you here and now.' Bellatrix said in a low and deadly voice.
'Yes, yes,' Severus drawled, unperturbed. 'Though if you do that, remember that I have kept a backup of that information. Should I die ... well, let's say that he shall know for certain. And imagine what he will do to you and the Malfoys should he find out.'
The family stiffened, panic clearly written on their faces.
'I think I shall take my leave.' Severus said, getting up. 'You clearly need the space to think about how you plan on getting that object back. Remember, you cannot harm Potter. The Dark Lord won't be pleased about that either. Oh whatever shall you do...?'
Trailing off he closed the door, a dark sneer on his face.
Heading towards the grounds, Severus thought of the conversation he had with those four. He relished the thought of the great and all-mighty Malfoys being put in their places. And he took special pleasure in seeing Draco humbled. The boy was too arrogant for his own good.
He wasn't sure if Potter had seized Bellatrix's fortune. Albus wasn't sure about that either, as his primary source of information, the werewolf, did not know. Well, he might as well mention that in an appropriately cryptic message. Hopefully the dunce would know what to do.
Getting the message would be a challenge however.
At least it would distract Bellatrix enough. Severus knew that he had painted a huge target on the Tonks family as the crazed witch would exclusively focus on them in order to get the item, but it was a necessary evil. At least this way, some innocent lives would be saved as Bellatrix would not be able to launch an attack on the populace as a whole. Besides, he was also sure that Nymphadora had taken the necessary precautions.
Disapparating, he headed home. He really needed to work on that message. Not only would he have to surreptitiously alert the morons in the Order, but the Potter brat as well.