Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Prince Charon · Jul 3, 2015

Interesting.

Didn't Hermione wear something even more scandalous (from a muggle perspective) at the Yule Ball in this story's Fourth Year, or am I mixing it up with another fic?

macdjord · Jul 3, 2015

She wore something atypically skimpy - to match what Luna picked out for herself - but not necessarily that bad.

Starfox5 · Jul 3, 2015

Those robes are far more sexualized than what Hermione wore, even if they might (nominally) cover more skin. Designed and enchanted to tantalize and call attention to the body, tease with possible glimpses, and so on. A bit like the difference between lingerie and bathing suits.

steamrick · Jul 3, 2015

Prince Charon said:
Didn't Hermione wear something even more scandalous (from a muggle perspective) at the Yule Ball in this story's Fourth Year, or am I mixing it up with another fic?

I think the most scandalous (and glamorous) dress description I've read for the Jule Ball was in Holly Evans and the Spiral Path. Here's a few choice scenes from Ch. 44: (Spoiler Alert for those that haven't read it yet)

Holly stands up and grabs her layered black lace gown from out of the dresser. She shimmies into it until it settles into place comfortably. Pulling at a pair of interlaced red ribbons, the dress draws tight around Holly's waist and hugs the curves of her bosom and hips. Holly ties the ribbons into a decorative knot at her left hip and turns to face Harry for evaluation.
"How do I look?"
Harry gives Holly a smouldering up-and-down ogle.
"You look good enough to eat..."
Holly raises an eyebrow and thrusts up a hand to hold back any further commentary.
"We'll dance together once but otherwise you're to keep a three meter distance from me. All night, Tonks."

"Is that why your dress is black?"
"Partly. Also, this lace thing is magically layered."
Hermione adds another commentary, "You look like you're bound in licorice, Holly."
"...Or maybe wrapped in spider webs. It's... creepy."
Holly grins. "I know! Isn't it fab?"
Ginny stares at the bodice of the black dress a little more closely. "Holly... are you wearing any-?"
"TIME FOR PICTURES!" With a clap of her crimson gloves, Holly heads out of the dorm and down the staircase.
"She isn't, is she?"
Hermione stands next to Ginny, staring after their friend. "(Sigh) No. Let's not make a fuss, shall we?"
"Sure, but it should make for a fun game- keep watching the boys to see which ones are caught staring first."

"Holly! I would like a word with you."
Holly stops her trek in Harry's company towards the Gryffindor dorms at the sound of her Godmother's vocal leash-jangling. She turns and flourishes her black lace gown, showing off her best attempt at grace while wearing three inch platform-style heels. Fabric covers her from neck to ankle and out to her fingertips due to dark red satin opera gloves that match the ribbons that tie the layers of lace tightly to her form.
"So? Am I presentable?"
Professor McGonagall walks up in her holiday green tartan, wearing a wide hat brimmed with a dangerously-sharp looking wreath of nettles around it. She gives Holly a once over.
"Yes, that's... quite fetching, actually."

[insert intense dancing]

"Holly, did you change your dress?"
"No. This dress is magically layered for comfort. As I lose the need for the insulation, the extra layers of lace disappear automatically."
"Well neat! Wait. How many layers are there?"
"Fourteen originally when I was standing out in the snow. After our dances, the Brasilian Professor's tango and my hyper-waltz with Luna I'm probably down to... five."
Holly leads Neville into the crowd and turns to draw him into a slow dance. Unlike their previous dances, this more casual arrangement allows the two to move much closer. Neville's fingers slide carefully around Holly's waist, threading in between the ornate lace patterns and red ribbons. They continue to sway to the music for a bit, but then Neville stops suddenly. His entire face blinks at Holly in surprise.
"H-Holly!"
"Yes, Neville?"
"I-I'm touching your skin!"
"I know Neville. I can feel it. It's nice."
"But shouldn't there be a slip under this?"
"No, I'm naturally this pale, so no reason to smooth out the underlying tones. I think it's wonderful how polite you've been this evening."
"You're welcome. Why do you say that though?"
"Well, obviously you've been avoiding staring at my breasts if you only just now realised that I'm not wearing a slip..."
Neville stops moving entirely as he reflexively catches a glimpse of Holly's areola beginning to pucker beneath the last few threaded flowers of black lace across Holly's chest. Holly continues to sway back and forth to the music despite Neville's current self-induced petrifaction.
"Nev, please start moving again. I feel like you didn't realise I was a girl until this second."
Neville snaps out of his reverie and begins to sway while looking Holly up and down, noting another unusual feature that wasn't visible before. He reacts by scrunching his eyes shut.
"H-Holly, I can see your s-scars..."
"Yah. Five layers of lace isn't really that much, is it?"
"No it isn't. And no, you're not."
"Sorry?"
"You aren't a girl. You are most definitely a woman. I thought you were a girl, but you really are a woman. A lady."

turbinicarpus · Jul 3, 2015

Starfox5 said:
he four girls had been apologetic ~~apoletic~~ about the loss of control, t

Starfox5 said:
Someone's moving around inside, too - even though it's late."

Starfox5 said:
Padma were ~~was~~ here, you'd pay for that remark.

Starfox5 said:
just a bit more snugly ~~smugly~~ after that.

Starfox5 said:
While the human guards lost their souls when the inhuman guards turned on them,

I'd think that they'd have enough Patroni between them to protect them, without Voldemort providing suppressive fire.

Ack · Jul 3, 2015

Wow. A lot happened this chapter.

Starfox5 · Jul 3, 2015

Pahan said:
I'd think that they'd have enough Patroni between them to protect them, without Voldemort providing suppressive fire.

Thanks for the typos!

People who can cast the Patronus well enough to hold back so many dementors generally do not get assigned to Azkaban. The Ravenous Cold are held in check by the conditions of the deal they made with the Ministry. Or in this case, were held in check. It'll be explained a bit more in the next chapter. I didn't want this Ministry to employ demon guards and at the same time expect them to turn against them at the drop of a hat; they had to be reasonably certain that they were safe to be around.

Ack said:
Wow. A lot happened this chapter.

Voldemort's on the move. I also wanted to push the timeline forward - recruiting was not going to happen instantly anyway.

Ack · Jul 3, 2015

Starfox5 said:
Thanks for the typos!

People who can cast the Patronus well enough to hold back so many dementors generally do not get assigned to Azkaban. The Ravenous Cold are held in check by the conditions of the deal they made with the Ministry. Or in this case, were held in check. It'll be explained a bit more in the next chapter. I didn't want this Ministry to employ demon guards and at the same time expect them to turn against them at the drop of a hat; they had to be reasonably certain that they were safe to be around.

So how's that working out for them, anyway?

Starfox5 · Jul 3, 2015

It worked well enough ever since they made the Deal. Well enough so any trouble was covered up, or dismissed as a fluke - like the attack on Harry.

Ack · Jul 3, 2015

Starfox5 said:
It worked well enough ever since they made the Deal. Well enough so any trouble was covered up, or dismissed as a fluke - like the attack on Harry.

Yeah, that always struck me as wrong.

"We have these demons that want to feed on human souls. The Boy Who Lived claims they tried to attack him. We blame him instead of shutting down all Dementor activity and finding out the truth."

Starfox5 · Jul 3, 2015

Well, in this story they were looking for the culprit behind the attack in year 3, when a horde of dementors attacked Harry

From Chapter 2:

"Here." Hermione handed him some chocolate. "Have they found the one who ordered the dementors to attack us yet?" Harry shook his head in response, munching. "I bet they haven't yet decided what makes them look worse, having dementors go out of control and attacking the Boy-Who-Lived, or having someone inside the Ministry who had sent dementors to attack the Boy-Who-Lived and might send them out again at someone else."

They haven't found the culprit though, and the saboteur in year 4 made a nice scapegoat.

Starfox5 · Jul 9, 2015

Chapter 20: Sacrifices

Azkaban looked dreadful even in plain daylight, Kenneth Fenbrick thought. All of it, rock, walls, and towers, looked drab, dark, and wet. He didn't want to think how it would look at night. The auror had his wand out even before the ferry that he and his partner, Bertha Limmington, were on had reached the small pier. The first reports they had heard, right after they had been called in to work despite being on vacation, had stated that all of the dementors had disappeared, but Kenneth wasn't about to bet his life and soul on reports. Bertha had her wand in hand as well, as he noted.

"Do you expect an ambush?" He managed to smile, as if he was teasing like he often was. The wizard wasn't sure he had her fooled though - the former Ravenclaw was just a bit too perceptive. Even if at first sight she seemed to lose herself in details and regulations.

The witch shook her head slightly. "The chances that both the first response team and the reinforcements they called for could have overlooked an ambush are so low one can safely assume that's not the case."

"You've got your wand out."

"The chances that the dementors wait until more aurors and hit-wizards are present are not that low, in my opinion." Bertha explained. "Although, due to insufficient information, that's just a cautious assumption."

The idea that they could be swarmed by the missing dementors was not helping Kenneth's mood, already soured from having to leave the witch he had met the night before, and the auror was quite tense when he stepped on the island. At the end of the pier he saw a covered body. "One guard managed to almost get away?"

Bertha nodded. "There wasn't a guard stationed at the pier at night according to the schedule we got, so the guard must have come from the prison proper." She would have studied the files diligently, of course.

A young hit-wizard stood guard there, his expression clearly showing that he felt an attack was imminent. Kenneth grinned - unless Britain suddenly found itself at war, guard and patrol duties were a hit-wizard's daily work, with the more experienced ones occasionally providing support for auror raids on the lairs of suspected dark wizards and similar targets. The wizard probably had been disappointed to learn what life as a hit-wizard actually was. Kenneth had no sympathy for him. If the kid hadn't wanted to become a glorified guard, he should have done his homework. Both to get N.E.W.T.s good enough to enter the Auror Academy, and to know better than believe the recruiters from the DMLE, who still tried to paint hit-wizards as the few, the brave and the proud defenders of Britain. On the other hand, if the dementors returned, the kid would be getting the fight of his life. Probably the last fight for his life as well.

Bertha had already levitated the tarp covering the body away and was inspecting the corpse. Kenneth bent over a bit to join her, after his customary glance at his partners rump when she crouched down. The poor soul - and wasn't that a bad twist of phrase? He'd have to make sure not to use that wording when he spoke about it with a superior - looked like he had died from fright judging by the expression frozen on his face.

Bertha looked at the body, then at a series of pictures and a piece of parchment floating next to her. "Winfried Galldrift. He had the night patrol shift."

Kenneth took her word for it. His partner had an eye for such.

Bertha ran her wand over the body a few times."Cause of death: Frozen to death."

"Dementor's aura, or just exposure?" Kenneth asked. The North Sea in December wasn't warm enough to survive a night outside, although warming charms should have kept the cold at bay. Unless someone had finited them, of course.

"The warming charms are still effective, so it was the aura."

Kenneth nodded. "Which is quite unusual for a dementor attack. Usually they leave their victims after taking their souls." He grinned at the brief surprise that flickered over his stoic partner's face at him having read that report.

"Correct."

"Which means someone told them to do that." Kenneth continued. But why would anyone order this? It wasn't to remove witnesses; a kissed victim was a vegetable, braindead. And they didn't feel anything, so killing them slowly shouldn't appeal to the kind of sick wizards who liked such murders.

"That would be a logical conclusion, though we do not know enough about dementors to be certain of that." Bertha argued.

"We certainly do not know of any such a thing happening before." Kenneth stated, but let the matter drop - for now - while they made their way to the prison proper.

The scene there was worse than Kenneth had expected. Four wizards were found at the foot of the main main tower, where the guardroom was. Kissed and frozen to death, all of them, with their wands out and the terror they must have felt when they had realized that they were doomed preserved on their faces.

"Patronus Charm on three wands." Bertha noted.

Kenneth knew that faced with all the dementors of Azkaban descending on them from all directions, they would have had to be wizards as powerful as Dumbledore to survive. Or maybe as powerful as the Boy-Who-Lived. According to a report, Potter had driven dozens of dementors away with a single spell - in his third year. Kenneth didn't really believe that, of course. It was just hype, like the children's books using the kid's name. "And on the fourth?"

"Shield Charm."

"Must have panicked then."

Bertha nodded in agreement. "Even with three patronuses in the vicinity, that many dementors would have been enough to frighten them out of their wits."

"Until they couldn't keep the spells up." At which point they would have been kissed.

Inside the tower it was worse. Theoretically, it would have been a defensible location, with the doors and windows easy to bar and lock. That hadn't been done here, though - or so it seemed. Kenneth ran his wand over the main door. "The door has been opened with an Unlocking Charm." He turned towards Bertha. "I'll check with the first response team to find out if they opened the door, or if it was already open when they arrived."

His partner just nodded, already studying the first corpse inside the tower.

A few minutes of asking nervous hit-wizards, all of them looking as if they expected an attack, later Kenneth had found the leader of the first response team, and had gotten confirmation that the door had been open when the team had arrived. He doubted that the guards outside had been able to open the door, but had then failed to get inside in time, so someone had been helping the dementors.

He returned to his partner, who was investigating a headless corpse. "I didn't think dementors actually ate the head of their victims. Or was that a kiss gone wrong?"

Bertha ignored his attempt at humor. "The effect matches the last spell on his wand, a Blasting Curse, and judging by the splatter pattern he blew his own head off."

Kenneth shuddered. He could understand such a choice - it was better to lose one's life than one's soul. He didn't know if he would be able to do it, though, if faced with the same situation. Although... "He could have been imperiused."

"The door wasn't opened by the first response team then." Bertha understood his reasoning at once.

Kenneth nodded. "It was open when they arrived."

"It's still unlikely that someone would have imperiused the victim - the man would have been kissed anyway."

"True." Unless the unknown intruder was the sort who loved forcing people to kill themselves. There had been one or two of them in the last war.

Most of the rest of the guards were found inside the tower, kissed and frozen to death. Kenneth managed to not think too much about their last minutes, about the horror they had experienced losing their very souls. "All of them were wearing the necklaces that marked them as safe."

"Yes. Either those were sabotaged somehow - all of them - or someone convinced the dementors to alter the deal." Bertha's tone made clear what she thought had happened. She still added: "And if the deal hadn't been altered, the dementors would still be present, doing their part as they saw fit."

Going downstairs into the actual dungeons, the two aurors found the last guard and an unknown wizard. Both were dead.

Kenneth crouched down as well this time, studying the corpse. "No badge, foreign robe, continental style of protections. Identical necklace though. We might have our intruder." Kenneth said. If the wizard had been killed by the dementors after setting them loose, he deserved his fate. If.

"He's not on the list of guards on duty, and the Unlocking Charm was the last spell cast with his wand." Bertha added.

"That would fit the scene." Maybe a bit too perfectly, Kenneth thought. "Let's check the cells."

The cells were the stuff of nightmares. Kenneth had known that Azkaban was a horrible place, from the reports he had read following the escape of Sirius Black as well as from gossip with the guards who fetched prisoners from there to their trials and back, but reading and hearing about it didn't compare to actually seeing the emaciated prisoners dressed in rags and covered with rashes and dirt, and smelling the filth accumulated in a cell… He had cast a Bubblehead Charm at once, and he still almost threw up. Even the unflappable Bertha seemed shaken. Somewhat.

"Merlin! They must have welcomed the dementor's kiss to finally be free of this…" he exclaimed, after pulling back the sleeve of a ragged prisoner's robe, and revealing an arm that was barely more than skin and bones, covered with sores and and scars.

Bertha started to nod, then checked herself before casting a few spells at the body. For his partner to almost agree to such a statement she truly had to be shaken.

"How many prisoners are, were here?" Kenneth took a few deep breaths. He should look into adding a Bubblehead Charm to his robe - but then, sometimes one needed to smell such scents, to get the best picture of a crime scene.

"27."

It took two hours to check each cell, each corpse, each door. Kenneth knew that if he had been alone, he'd have become sloppy after the first five or six more or less identical corpse. He wouldn't have be able to study each in detail. Bertha though carried on, methodically, to the last dead prisoner. It was her who discovered that some of them, the marked Death Eaters, had fresh wounds on their hands, scraped skin from their knuckles, as if they had tried to defend themselves, or get away.

Both aurors were very glad to reach the fresh air of the prison's courtyard again. They couldn't take too long to recover though - Amelia Bones, the Head of the DMLE wanted results, and she wanted them yesterday. Kenneth and Bertha had to prepare their report as soon as possible.

Kenneth already knew some things didn't add up. Why were the Death Eaters the only ones who had tried to defend themselves, instead of waiting for the end like the other prisoners? True, they were said to be the most resilient compared to the other prisoners, lasting for years, over a decade, while the other prisoner usually were driven to madness or succumbed to despair and died in a few months to a year, but… all of them attempting to resist when none of the others, not even the one rapist who had arrived a month ago, had managed that? It was possible, of course.

But there were other things that didn't feel right to him. Had the whole massacre truly been the work of a single person, who had then been killed by the dementors? That sounded a bit too convenient. Too neat. He had only rarely found crimes as neatly wrapped up before the investigation had even started.

And there was the attack by dementors on Harry Potter, two years ago. The DMLE had never found out who had ordered the monsters to attack. The general assumption was that Malcom Branwick, the one who had tried to get Potter killed, first in the Triwizard Tournament and later in Bulgaria, had been behind that attack as well. But to order dementors around required the help from someone in the Ministry. Someone who hadn't been caught yet. Even to get the necklace that had marked guards as safe - until last night - would have required help, either a mole, or a very skilled burglar.

Someone was behind this, someone who was still alive. Even though all the evidence so far pointed at the dead intruder, Kenneth was sure that one had not been the mastermind. Too young, too foreign, and too dumb.

He glanced at his partner while they walked to the ferry. He could tell that she was thinking about something, worrying. Kenneth would have bet quite a lot of gold that she shared his suspicions. And that the two of them were not wrong.

*****

Amelia Bones's office had not changed much since he had first visited it, years ago, Albus Dumbledore noted. The same wizarding picture hung on the wall, showing the current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time she graduated from the Auror Academy, together with her friends. Friends who had not survived the War against Voldemort. Next to it hung a picture of her family - all dead as well, but for little Susan, whose picture was on the witch's desk. Other than that, the office held nothing but furniture, reports, and files. Albus assumed that the pictures were there to remind Amelia what she had lost, and what she was living and working for still. He'd never ask her, of course.

"Hello Albus. Thank you for coming so quickly after I called. Please have a seat" Amelia sounded polite, but there was a hint of suspicion in her voice as well - though that could simply be normal for her. Déformation professionelle was a thing among aurors. Among teachers too.

"Thank you, Amelia. Of course I came as soon as I heard. Such an emergency always takes precedence over my vacation schedule." He smiled as he sat down. It wasn't as if he had much going on anyway, not with the school all but empty and politics, domestic or international, being equally quiet during Yuletide. Most of his colleagues and friends were celebrating Yuletide with their families. They would not dare to invite the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the ICW to join them, for that might be seen as a faux pas. Even if they knew he had - officially - no family left. But that was part of the price he had to pay for doing what he needed to and what no one else seemed to be able or willing to. And part of his penance.

Amelia's answering smile showed that she didn't think she had been the first to inform Albus of the incident at Azkaban. She hadn't, of course, but it would be impolite to mention that. "I've got the preliminary reports from my aurors. Ten guards dead, 27 prisoners dead, one intruder dead. No sign of the dementors."

Albus had known that already, thanks to Nymphadora. He also knew that Amelia had arrived with the reinforcements for the First Response Team, so she had seen the carnage herself. He could have gone himself, but to visit Azkaban again, to see what his country had done there, for so long… there was a reason he had made sure Gellert was imprisoned in Nurmengard. If only he had managed to get rid of Azkaban… but he couldn't dwell on those regrets, not now. "Did you identify the intruder?"

"He has been tentatively identified as Martin Steinmaur, a German graduate from Durmstrang." Amelia answered.

Albus raised his eyebrows in surprise and she explained further: "A man with that name visited the Ministry expert on dementors, Ebenezer Renquirt, some time ago, and Renquirt's description - 25 years old, long beard, glasses - matches the body we found. Our expert also, if too late, noticed that he's missing the necklace he was given so he could study the dementors safely. All we know so far is just what Renquirt was told though - we still have to check the actual records of Durmstrang and the Prussians."

"It seems a bit hard to believe that a man able to make a deal with dementors would not have covered his tracks better." Albus noted, watching Amelia.

"It is a bit hard to believe that a man able to make a deal with dementors would end up dead at their hands so quickly. This required a lot of preparations, and I'd think carefully wording the deal in advance would be obvious." Amelia stared back at him.

"I concur." Albus stated, his voice mild. Should he tell Amelia what he knew? She'd be furious for him keeping it secret, but she'd understand, after a bit. The teacher in him wanted her to make the connection herself though; students always retained things they found out for themselves better than what the teacher told them. "I assume you have discovered more such… discrepancies?"

"Yes." Amelia narrowed her eyes slightly. Albus almost smiled ruefully - he had to remember that she wasn't a student anymore, hadn't been for decades. His age was catching up with him. "The necklace we found wouldn't have allowed the wizard to make a deal with the dementors. He would have needed actual authority, power, influence to have something to offer to the monsters."

"His own soul wouldn't have been enough then?" Albus didn't like to think of how desperate a man would have to be to bargain his very soul away - and to what purpose?

"Not by far according to our experts." Amelia anticipated Albus's next question and added: "Apart from Renquirt, who might have been imperiused, I've talked to the Unspeakables. They confirmed his statements."

"You believe 'Steinmaur', if that's his name, was just a decoy then."

"Yes. Whoever is behind this either has a lot of influence in the Ministry, or works for the Ministry." Amelia's face made no secret of just how much she hated what she had just said.

"Whoever sent the dementors after young Harry two years ago was never found." Albus kept his tone free of any reproach. Amelia was a very skilled head for the DMLE, especially compared to her predecessors, but she was up against a truly exceptional wizard.

"I thought of that myself, but if he had such influence over the dementors back then, why would he have needed to speak with Renquirt and steal his necklace?"

"He might have had an unwitting or unwilling helper at the right place then, who couldn't do anything more now." Albus had his suspicions, of course, but only Voldemort knew the truth. Though Albus was certain that whoever managed to tamper with the Goblet of Fire while it was in the Ministry would have been able to manipulate the dementors' orders before that too.

"Maybe. Whoever it is now controls the dementors. Once that gets out there'll be a panic among the population. I've already ordered all available wands to train in containing the monsters." Amelia's face showed that she knew that her order would only hasten the spread of that news. Then she grinned, though without humor. "At least our unknown mastermind rid us of our worst criminals."

"Maybe." Albus knew that Voldemort wouldn't have killed his most loyal followers - he would have freed them.

"Maybe? What do you suspect, Albus? I've got no time nor tolerance for games!" Amelia was now showing her infamous temper. She was one of the few who didn't tip-toe around Albus - a refreshing attitude.

"I have heard rumors from some of my acquaintances, tales of someone recruiting wands for hire. Lots of them, and the kind who lacks any scruples as long as the gold is good. The criminals killed in Azkaban would have been a good fit for such an army, at least those who didn't go mad." Albus carefully kept himself from sounding too serious, or too casually.

"The only ones who weren't mad already were the Death Eaters, and even their sanity is in doubt after over a decade in that hellhole. And those murderers would never follow anyone else than their dead Dark Lord." Amelia scoffed at the thought, then stared at Albus. The Headmaster held her gaze. "Merlin's balls! The attacks on Potter in the last two years. The attack on the World Cup. You think You-Know-Who is not dead!?"

Albus evaded the question. "Only someone truly dedicated to the Dark Lord's cause would be so intent on killing young Harry. As talented and remarkable as the boy is, he has not done anything else to make such an enemy. And whoever was behind those attacks is certainly driven and skilled enough to be able to lead the Dark Lord's remaining followers. I believe Malcom Branwick was but a decoy himself."

"But you believe You-Know-Who is alive." Amelia stated rather than asked.

"I have no proof." None that he could give her without endangering Harry. But his suspicions would be good enough - for Amelia at least. And he'd rather not spread the knowledge that the Dark Arts could allow someone to come back from what would have been certain death, not even to such trustworthy souls as Amelia Bones.

"And if you claimed this, there would be an even worse panic, or people would attack you as delusional." Amelia smiled cynically.

"Or both." Albus was not quite as cynical as the head of the DMLE, but he shared her views of Britain's likely reaction to anyone claiming Voldemort had returned.

"Merlin curse it! This case turned out to be even worse than I feared. And the Minister is already nagging me, wanting it solved yesterday!" Amelia grit her teeth.

"I will speak with Cornelius." The Minister would certainly be reasonable, if Albus explained the situation - without bothering him with mere speculation, of course. "Although there remains the issue of the apparently killed Death Eaters."

"I've seen the bodies, Albus."

"Yes. And anyone who dies under the influence of polyjuice will stay polyjuiced." Unlike transfiguration spells, which were a constant magical effect and would end or could be ended. A polyjuice potion tricked a wizard's own magic into thinking the changed state was natural. When the potion's effect ended, the wizard's magic would return his body to its natural state. But a corpse had no magic of its own anymore. "I believe there has been a steep rise in kidnappings and disappearances, hasn't it?"

"Yes, we've had over a dozen missing person cases in the last week." Amelia frowned. Albus hoped it was because of the possible fate of the victims, and not just because he had just reminded her of the fact that he had sources inside her department. "But it's impossible to prove they were replaced with polyjuiced doubles until we capture one of the originals."

"I will speak with Saul about ways to detect polyjuice in corpses. Please have the bodies put into stasis." Albus knew the bodies were already in stasis, to prevent them from decomposing, but this would keep them there. And it would provide a good cover for the other topic he wanted to talk with Saul about. He reminded himself that he could trust Amelia with that as well, but he could inform her after he knew if his idea was possible in the first place.

"All right, Albus. I expect to be kept informed of all new developments though. This is too big to be handled by you and your friends." Amelia almost sneered at the word 'friends' - it seemed she had not forgotten that her brother had fought with Albus against Voldemort.

"Thank you, Amelia. I will be off then." It was not entirely fair of her to blame Albus for the loss of her family to Death Eaters. Her brother and his wife had volunteered, after all. But the Headmaster accepted the blame nonetheless. Leading the Order had been, and still was, his responsibility, and so were their deaths.

Albus slowly stood up, nodded at Amelia, who was already grabbing another piece of parchment, and left her office. She had her department to run through a crisis, he had to speak to an Unspeakable.

*****

"Nymphadora was called in to work? Wasn't she on vacation?" Sirius sounded more shocked than Harry thought was appropriate after hearing Andromeda's and Ted's explanation for their daughter's absence at the now traditional gathering of the Black Family for the Yuletide gifts. Then Harry noticed that Hermione looked worried as well, and reconsidered. Nymphadora was a young auror, but there were younger ones to get called if the Ministry just needed someone to fill in for a sick auror. So, something serious had to have happened to make the DMLE ruin her vacation.

Harry wasn't the only one to understand that, and the gift exchange was more than a little subdued at the start. It didn't stay that way, though.

"Ah… do you fear a trap, or poison?" Viktor had noticed that both Harry and Hermione ran a series of spells on all their gifts before touching them, much less opening them.

"No, we're just expecting a prank or two," Hermione answered the Bulgarian, with a meaningful glance towards Sirius.

"Ah." Viktor looked at Sirius, who was doing his best to appear as innocent as possible. He was, of course, failing to convince anyone, and so the seeker started to check his gifts as well, followed by the Black-Tonkses and even the French house-guests.

Viktor was the first to detect something, and, with a triumphant grin, cast a finite on it before Harry or Hermione could warn him. He was immediately buried under an avalanche of sticky sweets of all kinds that broke out of the box. Sirius must have shrunk a small mountain of the confections.

"With Sirius, pranks are more like tasks for a curse-breaking competition," Harry explained to Viktor after he and Hermione had managed to extract their guest from his sweet prison.

"I see…" the Quidditch Star glanced over at Sirius and, surprisingly, Remus, who were laughing so much, they had fallen to the floor. Harry and Hermione discovered that It was harder than expected to get the sweets off the seeker - they were charmed to stick to him, and resistant to spells.

Hermione was glaring at the two nominal adults. "Honestly, I'd have expected better of Remus, at least. I bet Nymphadora was meant to eat them off him."

Harry thought so as well. A few conjured animals did the trick in the metamorphmagus's absence, exposing a fault in two Marauders' scheme, to their apparent but vastly overdone chagrin. That the animals were changing colors and making weird sounds revealed what the two pranksters had had in store for Nymphadora. Their gifts for Harry and Hermione were, surprisingly, not pranked. Which meant either the food, or the furniture would be, of course. He opened his own gift, and for a moment he thought they had mixed it up with Hermione's - a book that thick was usually meant for his retainer.

Then he opened it and found 'The Complete Wizard's Guide to Sex'. Illustrated extensively, with drawings that depicted himself and Hermione. Harry couldn't help but stare at the moving pictures. Was that even possible without dislocating something?

"Oh, you got a book! Can I see it?" Hermione was already assuming the answer would be 'yes' - who would be as foolish as to try to keep her from a book, after all, Harry knew - and reached for it. He barely managed to slam the book closed before she got a hold of it.

"It's a prank gift." He whispered, showing her the title on the spine, which was, fortunately, not illustrated. Her eyes widened when she realized what kind of book he had received, and her glare towards his godfather and honorary uncle redoubled. At least her own gift, a subscription to 'The Curse-Breaker Journal', hadn't been chosen for maximum embarrassment. Harry just knew he'd not be able to sleep without dreaming of what he had glimpsed already.

Then Valérie d'Aigle mentioned that Sirius had helped her and her cousins to pick their gift for Hermione, and Harry saw his love blush terribly while thanking the earnest-looking witch for what appeared, as far as Harry could tell, to be a series of French novels. Judging by how Sirius was trying to hide his mirth, it was probably something embarrassing too.

It wasn't until they were finishing dinner and waiting for dessert that Harry realized that in all the confusion and excitement, the gloom that had hung over the celebration at the start had disappeared completely.

*****

Sirius Black was in his bedroom, fighting the urge to change into Padfoot, roll up on the carpet, and forget about everything Nymphadora had told him. He wanted to, but this time, Padfoot would only remind him of that hell he had escaped two years ago. That horror that had almost broken him. Azkaban.

He shivered, remembering the cold, the wet cells, the stench, and the torments. The screams from other prisoners, who were slowly going mad - and knew it. Becoming Padfoot had helped him, had saved him, but that had been there, then. He was no longer a prisoner, he couldn't, shouldn't hide as Padfoot from this. He had friends, he had a family who depended on him.

And yet he couldn't close his eyes without seeing Azkaban, feeling the dementors passing the cells, the cold seeping into his bones, the terror paralyzing him. Everyone, guards and prisoners, dead? No, kissed first, then frozen to death?

He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to stop from shaking. 37 people lost their souls and their lives. If he had still been there he'd have suffered the same, horrible fate. He didn't know how to feel about that. The prisoners had been terrible people who had done abhorrent crimes. But Britain had thought the same of him, before he had been exonerated. What if there had been others like him, innocents suffering there? He didn't want to think about that. Or about the guards. During Yuletide, only the dregs of the DMLE and those who had screwed up would have been on duty. And the youngest, of course. Those who couldn't get a vacation when everyone who was senior to them got one.

Sirius started to rock back and force, his arms wrapped around his knees. For the prisoners, death would have been a mercy. Living in Azkaban was worse than death. But to lose their souls… did that mean they were truly lost, and would not reach the afterlife? Although, if they had been killed and not kissed after they had been driven mad, would they stay insane in the afterlife? Or as a ghost? An eternity spent in the throes of madness, a shambling hulk of who they had been… Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers to those questions.

He heard the door open behind him. Probably Remus, trying to get him to come down and eat something, again. His friend was trying, but he just didn't understand Azkaban. No one alive did, not even the guards. He was the only one left who did. Fortunately, Sirius had sent Harry with Hermione to visit her parents, claiming he would be fine. He couldn't stand the thought of them seeing him like this. Broken. Useless. Pathetic.

Footsteps behind him meant Remus was walking towards him. But before he could say anything to his friend he felt slender arms wrap around him, a head rest on his shoulder, and breasts pressing into his back. That wasn't Remus.

He took a deep breath. That perfume… he knew it was Valérie. The veela didn't say anything, she simply held him. Was there with him, offered him warmth, and … love. Slowly, he started to stop shaking. More footsteps. More arms around him. More warmth. Chantal. Laure. Eugénie.

For a while, the only sound he heard was their and his own breathing. And then, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see Azkaban anymore.

*****

"A way to test a corpse for polyjuice? Quite an interesting problem, indeed. I think magical residue would not work, but blood testing could work. Even if the potion was not detectable, parts of what it breaks down into might be. Muggles have some fascinating solutions for similar problems. But it would require… hm…." Saul Croaker was already making extensive notes on one of the many, many parchments cluttering up his office deep in the bowels of the Ministry.

Albus Dumbledore kept smiling, even though he wanted to frown. Saul had a tendency to get lost in any magical problem presented to him, to the point of forgetting he was not alone. He had heard that was common among the Unspeakables. Some even claimed that was where their name came from - that it was impossible to carry a longer conversation with anyone of them before they started working on a new idea.

The Headmaster coughed slightly. Saul didn't react at all. He coughed louder. Still no reaction. "Saul? Saul? SAUL!"

"What?" Saul looked up and at Albus as if the latter had just broken into his office. Sometimes the Headmaster thought that Saul was doing this deliberately to get rid of visitors who kept him from his work. He could understand that, if it was true - but the crisis they had was too important for such antics.

"That is just one of two things I came to you for." He smiled and hid his annoyance.

"Oh. Right. What's the other one?" Saul was already looking again at the notes he had just scribbled down.

Albus's smile became strained. "I have no proof I can share, but I am certain that Voldemort has returned."

"Ah." Saul sat up straight and grew serious at once. His absent-mindedness had been an act!

This time the Headmaster didn't hide his annoyance. "Further, I believe that sooner or later he will try to visit the Hall of Prophecies."

"Ah. The prophecy. I assume you want my department to prevent him from learning its contents."

"I wish for you to make sure that he cannot visit without the DMLE and myself knowing about it." Albus didn't know how serious the Unspeakables took the original purpose of the Hall of Prophecies these days. They had been quite understanding of the need to oppose Voldemort in the last war.

"I rather doubt he'll show up in person and ask for a tour." Saul smirked at his own feeble joke.

"I would assume that he will try to break in. He managed to have the Goblet of Fire tampered with while it was in storage here, after all." Albus hoped that would make Saul take this as seriously as was needed.

"That's a theory. He could have done that at Hogwarts." Saul frowned.

"I doubt that. But if it was true it would prove that he can break into the Department of Mysteries. Especially with Rookwood's help." Hogwarts was the most secure place in Britain, after all.

Saul didn't like to be reminded of that particular traitor. "After more than a decade in Azkaban, he has to have lost his mind. No one can last that long and keep his sanity."

"Sirius Black has done so." Albus didn't smile. Sirius's ordeal still filled him with shame for what he felt was another of his many failures.

"He was an animagus. Rookwood isn't. And Black's sanity is debatable."

"All Death Eaters showed a remarkable resilience in Azkaban. Far more than any other prisoners."

Saul had no answer to that. "I'll strengthen security. I assume you will want to be consulted?"

"I am happy to lend my assistance." Albus smiled.

"Of course you are. We'll call you once we're done." Saul was still frowning. He really didn't like to defer to Albus in such matters. But the Unspeakables were far too academically minded, far too aloof, when it came to Wizarding Britain's needs, to be trusted without some oversight. Official or unofficial.

"Thank you, Saul." Albus nodded graciously - he had achieved what he had come here for. Now he had to inform Amelia of this, and then talk with Harry and Sirius. He wasn't looking forward to either talk. Fortunately, young Nymphadora would have informed her family already of the incident at Azkaban and he wouldn't have to break that piece of news to them.

*****

"My Lord! My Lord! You came for us! Just as I knew you would!" Voldemort kept smiling while Bellatrix Lestrange, his Bella, wrapped her arms around his legs and tried to kiss his feet while weeping with joy and relief. A number of Cleaning Charms had removed the dirt and grime, the filth she had been covered in. Her rags had been replaced with the kind of daring robes she had favored before her arrest. Her hair had been styled with charms. But despite all that and even after several nutrition potions she still looked far too thin, far too worn, far too old. Voldemort had to fight to keep smiling gently at his Bella. He wanted to rage at the monsters who had done this to her, had tried to break her, destroy her beauty, her mind, her very soul. They would pay for this. They would all pay! No one touched what was his!

He would never forget Azkaban, nor the the hollow shells of wizards and witches he had found in the cells there, their minds destroyed by relentless torture. Feeding the poor wretches to the dementors had been a mercy, in his opinion. Who would have wanted to live like that? And to think that without him, without his marks lending them strength, his followers, his Bella, would have shared that fate!

He had seen a lot of horrors in the aftermath of Grindelwald's War. But he wouldn't have expected to find such horrors in Dumbledore's Britain. The old man was an even worse hypocrite than he had thought. With an effort the Dark Lord controlled himself.

"I came for you, Bella, as you knew I would." He bent down and gently pried her arms loose. "You have suffered so much for me, Bella, withstood so much, and never broke, unlike others. And you shall be rewarded." The way she stared at him was almost painful. Bellatrix shouldn't be so… grateful. Overwhelmed. Bro… no, not broken. Never broken. She was too strong for that, she'd recover. She'd be his brave, beautiful love again, standing up to everyone, even himself - within limits, of course.

"My Lord?"

"Your body is suffering from the torture you were subjected to. I've prepared a ritual to restore it. What years that place has stolen from you shall be returned to you." He pulled her up, then steadied her while he led her towards the stairs leading to the basement in his safe house. She was silently weeping, but he ignored it. His Bella didn't weep, wouldn't weep.

The basement had been prepared for the ritual. The circle was ready. The sacrifice - a young pureblood witch of exceptional beauty, only the best for his Bella - was bound to the altar with silver chains. Her eyes were wide with fright and horror, but a gag kept her silent. Blood dripped to the floor from where the chains had torn into her skin during her futile attempts to escape. He smiled at her. Her life would restore Bella's youth and beauty. The Dark Lord would have a fitting consort.
He had Bella kneel in the middle of the circle and then started the ritual. The candles were lit, the runes glowed, and the words and chants came easy to his lips. When he drew the dagger, crafted from the thigh bone of Elizabeth Báthory, Bella's eyes lit up while the other witch started to struggle again, desperately trying to escape her fate.
The chains held her, drawing more blood, until the enchanted bone knife descended.

*****

"I know it's a tragedy, and it's terrible that the dementors are on the loose, but all I can think of is that the Death Eaters responsible for the attack on my parents are finally dead."

Hermione Granger, sitting next to Harry in the compartment of the Hogwarts Express, fought the urge to tell Neville that those Death Eaters had actually escaped Azkaban, leaving innocent polyjuiced victims to take their place for the dementors. The Headmaster had told them to keep it a secret. Only Harry, herself, Sirius, Remus, Nymphadora and Ron knew about it. And yet she had to say something to correct her friend. "They lost their souls and then died, Neville."

"Even better!" Neville's grin was positively feral, a far cry from his usually rather shy smile. Though Hermione was sure that if her parents had been tortured until they lost their minds, she'd have similar feelings towards the culprits. Or if it had been Harry. She reached over and grabbed her boyfriend's hand, squeezing it. It had been a really horrible week for him. Knowing that Voldemort had not only all the dementors, but also his most fanatic followers at his command now had been bad enough. But then Harry had woken up, his scar bleeding, and told her of another ritual, another human sacrifice he had witnessed. A young witch had been murdered, her life and soul stolen, used up to restore Bellatrix Lestrange's health and youth - Hermione felt sick just thinking about it. And Harry had seen it, as if he had been the one to wield the knife…

"The dementors are not as dangerous as people think. The Quibbler has printed a special edition full of anti-dementor measures!" Luna announced, holding up the issue in question.

Hermione smiled at her friend and took one to read the first article out loud. Or at least the important parts. "Locked or barred doors will stop them." That was correct. Despite popular belief, the dementors were not ghosts and could not pass through obstacles. On the contrary, they were physically so weak that even minor obstacles would prevent them from passing.

"Eating enough chocolate will allow you to withstand their aura long enough to reach the next floo, or apparate away." That could be true - though so far, Hermione only ever had seen chocolate used in the aftermath, to help people recover. It could not do harm, though.

"Learning the Patronus Charm will allow you to keep a dementor at bay and drive it away should you get caught outside your home." That was true as well, though Hermione wasn't sure how many would be able to learn the spell, much less cast it in the presence of a dementor. Nymphadora had been quite vocal in her criticism of her colleagues' skill in that area.

"Though it is recommended that you stock up on Harry Potters, for one of them is enough to drive a hundred dementors away… Luna!" Hermione looked at her friend, frowning.

The blonde Ravenclaw was beaming at her. "It's all true!"

"That is not the point." Hermione felt Harry's hand on her thigh, gently squeezing, and sighed. It was true, after all, even though Hermione felt the topic was far too serious to make light of it in such a manner.

Luna just kept smiling happily. "People need some laughter too, especially in these times. Anyway, the Ministry has endorsed the article fully, so that makes it official! That was the first time any article in the Quibbler has been endorsed by the Ministry, by the way. My daddy said they even asked for a second, bigger printing run!" She leaned forward and touched Hermione's knee.

The blonde witch was so happy, Hermione had to swallow her cynical comment that the Ministry was doing everything it could to keep the population from panicking. Even if it meant endorsing the journal that kept linking Fudge to various disturbing rumors. "I am glad for yours and your father's success, Luna."

"Me too," Harry stated, pulling Hermione a bit closer to him, which meant she was halfway into his lap and Luna lost her grip on her knee. The surprised blonde would have fallen from her seat if not for Aicha's quick reaction with her wand and a very ingenious use of a sticking charm.

"Aicha! you almost made me rip my new robe!" Luna turned towards her best friend, pouting.

"Would you rather have fallen down on the floor, head first?" Aicha asked. She quickly continued when Luna opened her mouth: "If you say 'yes' I will levitate you to the ceiling and then drop you!"

Luna shut her mouth and sat down to sulk for a second. Then she was smiling again. Hermione wondered briefly why her friend wasn't blaming Harry, but then reminded herself that it was Luna. She was quirky.

"Wardrobe malfunctions aside," Ron spoke up from where he was sitting next to Padma, who was reading a thick book on runes Hermione had on her list as well, "the Ministry also recommends staying indoors and within wards, and to travel from house to house using floo or apparition." He held up a flyer. "Dad's got a dozen of those to distribute."

Hermione shook her head. "That won't help if the dementors are with someone who can break down wards, and block floos." Like Voldemort, or one of his Death Eaters.

"But if those come you're already in lethal trouble." Ron countered.

Neville looked confused. "Are you talking about the raids? Gran said those were the results of infighting between thieves."

"That's what the Ministry wants you to think!" Luna piped up. "It's actually a conspiracy to eliminate successful muggleborn merchants and craftsmen. Daddy has an article in the upcoming issue about it."

Hermione saw Neville, Aicha, Ginny and Padma looking at her. They were expecting her to debunk Luna's claim, she realized. She shook her head. "Luna's right. It's very improbable that there was an organisation of thieves who all led perfect double-lives and were all muggleborns."

That earned her incredulous stares from four of her friends, and an enthusiastic hug from a fifth. And a protesting groan from Harry, who suddenly had the weight of two girls in his lap. And yet Hermione smiled. It felt good to be back among their friends, dealing with their innocent antics instead of visions of sacrifices and memories of Azkaban.

*****

Keith Yennington shivered. Something was not right. His robe should keep him pleasantly warm no matter the weather. He checked his charms. They were still working. And yet he felt cold. Very cold. He looked at the bound muggle family he had kidnapped from their camping ground. The hairs on their limbs were sticking up, and they were shivering despite being unconscious. So it was coldness, not an illusion.

He was at the exact spot he had been told by his employer to deliver the muggles to: The ruins of an old manor. He couldn't tell if it had been destroyed in a war or had simply decayed through neglect. He didn't care either, just as he didn't care how many muggles or mudbloods he had to kidnap, or what his boss did with them. As long as he got paid. And he did get paid.

He thought he saw something moving, in the ruins of what he assumed was the kitchen. Was that his contact? There was something moving there… floating. Was it a ghost? He didn't like ghosts. They were witnesses he couldn't silence. But why was it so cold? And for a ghost that thing was a bit too opaque.

Another movement, on the other side, caught his attention. There were two of them! Tattered robes, floating, this cold… Merlin's wand, they were dementors! He took a deep breath. Had his boss sent him into an ambush, to silence him? That didn't make much sense. He could always escape, after all. And he had gotten the order two days ago - would dementors really stay that long in one deserted place?

"Good evening, Mister Yennington."

Keith whirled around. His boss, Greenbrand, was behind him. He hadn't heard or seen him arrive. He didn't think he had gotten sloppy, so the man was good. And not impressed or bothered by staring at Keith's wand aimed at his head. Greenbrand had to be even more dangerous than Keith had suspected.

"Sir." He nodded briefly at the wizard, but didn't lower his wand. "There are dementors in those ruins."

"I know. They are waiting for you to deliver the muggles." Greenbrand smiled as if it was the most normal thing in the world to deal deliver people to soul-sucking monsters.

On the other hand, those were muggles, not real people. And Keith got paid for it. Was there really any difference between delivering sacrifices to a dark wizard, or food to dementors? As long as he got paid?

Keith decided there wasn't. He started to levitate the captured muggles over to the ruins. The first drew a half a dozen of the monsters, circling around him, dipping up and down as they fed. Keith didn't watch - he was busy levitating the next victim, the mother, over. But he watched the dementors feeding after he had floated the last muggle child over to the ruins. It was a terrible yet enthralling sight, one few ever had seen outside the Execution Chamber in the Ministry.

"Fascinating, isnt it, Mister Yennington?" Greenbrand's tone had a slightly amused note.

"I guess so." Keith answered. He caught the bag floating over to him and checked its contents. It was the agreed sum, in galleons.

"You've got the right attitude, Mister Yennington. Would you be interested in a more permanent position? Better paid, and more secure."

Keith valued his independence. He also valued gold, and Greenbrand had been his most generous and steadiest employer so far. Most skilled too - the missions he had been sent on had been well-planned and prepared. Though Greenbrand also was the most dangerous employer he had ever worked for. Keith had known that even before this job. And the mercenary just had a strong feeling that if he didn't accept Greenbrand's offer he would be very unlikely to walk or apparate away from this place.

"Yes, sir. I would be interested."

*****

Draco Malfoy winced while measuring the ground manticore spikes twice. He had to be absolutely sure the amount was correct. Professor Snape's temper had grown even worse over the holidays, a feat Draco hadn't thought possible. The Potions Master was still favoring Slytherin, in as much as losing slightly less points for minimal mistakes than the other houses could be called 'favoring'. He had even punished Draco for having a slightly off-color potion in the first lesson after the break!

Pansy, working next to Draco, actually ducked when she heard their Head of House berate the Gryffindor Patil over her mise en place until the girl was crying. They should have been laughing at the sight of a crying Gryffindor! But the last time they did that, they had gotten punished as well for 'disturbing the class' - were they Gryffindors or Slytherins?

Life wasn't fair. First, he had to suffer through a boring Yuletide, without the gift he had truly wanted, another muggle, and then his aunt and her husband and brother-in-law were murdered in prison. Hah! As if anyone would believe that - it was clear that the Ministry had them and the other political prisoners executed and covered it up, to prevent them from breaking out and joining the fight for the cause! Draco had tried to comfort his mother, but she hadn't been as broken up over the loss of her only remaining sister - blood traitors didn't count - as he had expected. Maybe she had learned to control her emotions better since his summer vacation.

Father had been in a bad mood for the whole break, though. He had been worse than during that time last summer, actually, and had almost killed one of their elves for botching breakfast. Draco hadn't dared to ask for his gift after watching that spectacle and had spent most of his time at home in his room, reading and dreaming of battles and other things.

Finally, his potion was ready, and with the perfect color too! Pansy had managed an acceptable potion as well, he guessed, from the lack of truly nasty comments her effort netted her when she turned it in. Draco, as the best potioneer in class, got even a nod - high praise from the professor, at least this year. He was confident he'd ace the O.W.L. and show the mudblood and the blood traitor what purebloods could do!

On his way back to his dorms he walked past Potter. The rude blood traitor hadn't even offered him his condolences for the loss of his aunt. No manners at all. Draco didn't say anything, of course. These days, no one said anything in Potions unless asked by the teacher. Not when coming, not when going.

*****

Keith Yennington looked at the small, derelict house he had been called to, after a quick tour over half of Britain - probably to throw off pursuit. His employer was a careful man indeed.

"Good evening, Mister Yennington."

Keith jerked around. Greenbrand had snuck up on him again. Wait, that was not Greenbrand! But he sounded and looked as confident, and as dangerous - or even more so. Keith licked his lips, suddenly nervous, and nodded.

"Do you have the blood traitor I asked for?" The other wizard hadn't presented himself, but he was wearing very expensive robes. Definitely a rich one. Handsome too.

Keith nodded again and pulled out a small stick figure.

"Perfect. Follow me inside."

The derelict house had a quite new looking basement. And an even newer looking ritual circle. Keith was no expert, but the whole setup looked like it was meant for a dark ritual. He had epxected something like this, after all the work he had done for Greenbrand. So he placed the stick figure on what he thought was the spot for the sacrifice without any hesitation. After a confirming glance at the other wizard Keith ended the spell. In front of him the figure turned back into the wizard he had kidnapped in Knockturn Alley last night. The man was bound and gagged, but conscious - and deathly afraid. With good reason, of course.

"Perfect. I have been keeping an eye on you for months now, Mister Yennington, and you have impressed me. Skilled, cool under fire, ruthless, and willing to do what's needed to save our country from sliding into barbarism."

"I assume you are Greenbrand's boss."

"Greenbrand is just a minor tool, in a manner of speaking. I have many followers, all carefully chosen." The young man - he couldn't be older than 25, Keith thought - made a small gesture, and a figure stepped out of the shadows behind him. Another wizard able to sneak up on him, Keith thought with a frown. No, it was a witch, he realized, as she stepped out of the shadows. A very beautiful witch, with long, pitch black hair that fell in a wild mane down her back, and a body to… Merlin, this was Bellatrix Lestrange! She was supposed to be dead!

The witch laughed at his reaction, clearly amused, and clearly as mad as her reputation claimed. First dementors, then Bellatrix Lestrange… who was this man? Keith stared at the wizard, then gasped when the witch fell to her knees at the man's side. There was only one wizard who that witch would kneel to, Keith knew. The realization made him feel as if his blood had been transfigured into ice.

"Indeed, Mister Yennington. I, Lord Voldemort, have returned! More powerful than ever! I have freed my faithful followers from Azkaban! I have taken control of the dementors! I will rule Britain! And I am offering you a place in the ranks of my most loyal followers! Riches and power await you! What do you say?"

Faced with the Dark Lord's offer, there was only one answer that wouldn't see Keith die. He knelt down at once and bowed his head deeply. "My Lord."

"Very good. Raise, Keith, it is time to mark you." Voldemort looked at the kneeling witch and nodded. She disappeared at once, with the typical sound of an apparition. "The granting of my mark is always done in private, with only me and the new Death Eater present. And a sacrifice, of course, to be killed in cold blood." He pointed his wand at the struggling, moaning captive.

"Avada Kedavra!"

*****

Far away, in Scotland, Harry Potter woke up screaming with pain and whith his scar bleeding all over his pillow and face.

Chapter 21: Horcruxes

Ack · Jul 9, 2015

Things are moving along.

But ... 'sprouting'?

steamrick · Jul 9, 2015

Would you prefer pouring or gushing?

Starfox5 · Jul 9, 2015

Should be 'spurting'. Though "gushing" sounds good as well.

Ack · Jul 9, 2015

'gushing' to me brings images of torrents of blood, as you get when you sever an artery. Spraying, perhaps?

steamrick · Jul 9, 2015

Head wounds bleed a lot, but not quite to the point of spraying like a slit throat. It's more of a steady and unrelenting trickle of blood.

Though I guess curse wounds can bleed more if they feel like it. Sort of like males in hentai manga always appear to have liters of semen available if needed.

Starfox5 · Jul 9, 2015

What about "And his scar bleeding all over his pillow and face"?

Ack · Jul 10, 2015

Starfox5 said:
What about "And his scar bleeding all over his pillow and face"?

That's legitimate.

Though that should send Hermione into a minor panic.

Starfox5 · Jul 10, 2015

Ack said:
That's legitimate.

Though that should send Hermione into a minor panic.

That's part of the intended effect. His earlier vision (during the 4th task) had his scar bleed heavily as well.

Starfox5 · Jul 16, 2015

Chapter 21: Horcruxes

Harry Potter was pointing his wand at the wizard tied up with magical ropes before him. The man's eyes were wide open, he was desperately struggling with his bounds, and probably trying to scream - but the enchanted gag in his mouth prevented any sound from reaching Harry's ears. He heard himself speak in the voice of a stranger: "And a sacrifice, of course, to be killed in cold blood."

With that he pointed his wand at the captive. "Avada Kedavra!" A green curse hit the man, and he was dead at once.

"Kneel, Keith, and hold out your left arm!" Harry saw the other man kneel and hold out his arm, trembling slightly. A gesture with his wand and a mumbled word had the man frozen in his position, only his eyes able to move still. Harry stripped the sleeve away with a wave of his wand, enjoying how Keith's eyes suddenly widened in fear.

He pointed his wand at the corpse, waving the tip around and speaking words in a language he didn't know. Just hearing the guttural, alien words made him want to vomit though. The corpse shuddered for a moment, then was still again. Trailing green light from the tip, his wand rose again.

More words he didn't understand left Harry's lips. With each of them, the wand glowed more brightly, and yet the room - a basement - they were in grew darker. He held his wand in front of his face, then softly blew on it, and a shiver ran down his spine as a green-hued breath left his mouth, swirling around the tip of the wand.

Harry briefly closed his eyes, taking three deep breaths, then opened them with a smile, staring at the man, whose eyes betrayed his horror. Grinning, he kneeled down himself and started to chant those terrible words again. His glowing wand was pointed at the uncovered arm of the frozen wizard, and he slowly, ever so slowly, moved it towards the inside of the lower arm.

The skin of the man started to blacken even before his wand touched it, the hairs around it shriveling up and disappearing into smoke. Then the tip of his wand met skin with a sizzling sound, and the stench of burning flesh reached his nose. The green mist swirling around the wand slowly seeped into the burning tissue, and where it disappeared, new, shiny black skin appeared, forming a symbol. Horrified, Harry realized it was the Dark Mark. The unnatural skin rippled as it covered the burned part of the arm, shimmering with green light until the mark was complete.

Only then did Harry stop speaking in that unknown, alien tongue, and rested for a bit, panting with exhaustion. After a few minutes, he addressed at the still frozen wizard. "Are you terrified, Keith? Do you understand what exactly happened?"

He ran a finger over the Dark Mark. "Not many know what exactly I did, but most with at least some knowledge understand that it was among the greatest deeds of the Dark Arts. Not that you will remember it." Grinning, Harry pointed his wand at the man's forehead.

"Obliviate!"

Reliving his vision a second time in Dumbledore's pensieve had been almost as horrible as suffering through it the first time, Harry thought. At least his scar was not bleeding anymore and he didn't feel physical pain.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione hugged him hard - almost too hard. Despite her grip he felt his girlfriend tremble - seeing his memories must have shocked her more than finding him covered with blood in his bed after he had called her through her torc. A brief look showed Dumbledore's head was still in the pensieve, and so he held her, held on to her, until neither of them was trembling anymore.

Harry wasn't quite sure if his dorm mates had believed their claim that he had been just having a nightmare - Ron surely hadn't - but at least Hermione had cleaned him and his bed up with a few spells before the other boys had seen the blood. Judging by the expressions Harry had seen when he had left with Hermione, Seamus and Dean might think Hermione would be 'cheering up her Patron in private', so they were unlikely to suspect that the two had gone straight to Dumbledore. Even Neville might assume that, but he'd consider them a couple, not a Patron and his retainer. The rumors this would spawn though… but it was better than Voldemort finding out that Harry could see through his eyes.

The two had separated again when Dumbledore withdrew his head from the pensieve, at last, and to Harry's shock the usually unflappable Headmaster looked shaken. What had he seen in Harry's memories that would cause such a reaction? Not even seeing Voldemort resurrected had had such an effect on the old wizard.

Dumbledore didn't say anything, he just reached out, and from his 'bottomless apartment' a bottle flew into his hand, followed by a glass. He filled and drank one glass, then another, before he even looked at Harry and Hermione, who were both staring at him. Harry felt concern and not a small amount of fear by then.

"Ah. I am afraid I have grave news." The Headmaster sighed, then started to walk towards his office. "As much as it is a cliche, I think you better sit down to hear this, Mister Potter." His smile was wry, but didn't reach his eyes, and his voice sounded hollow even as he joked. He took a quick detour into his bedchamber, as he called it, while the two students went on, holding hands.

Hermione sat down close to Harry when they took their seats in front of the Headmaster's desk - close enough that he could reach out and touch her thigh, Harry realized. He would have preferred for her to sit in his lap, and from the look he exchanged with her, she shared that wish - Dumbledore's proclamation must have scared her as much as it had scared himself. But it wouldn't be proper. Fawkes had hopped off his perch and flown over to the old wizard at once, dropping the lemon drops he had stolen so he could sing to him.

For a while all three listened to the phoenix's song, and gradually, Harry started to feel better, and his girlfriend had calmed down as well. He patted her thigh, briefly, when Dumbledore seemed to focus on Fawkes, and she held his hand in return.

Finally the Headmaster spoke, though at first it sounded as if he was talking to himself more than to them. "Ah…. Tom, I did not think you were that devious - or that evil. Those fools…" Shaking his head, he pulled a small box from his robes, tapped it with his wand to enlarge it, then opened it, revealing the remains of a small book bound in black leather, arcane runes decorating the cover. "Have you seen this book before?" Fawkes glared at it, or so Harry thought. It was hard to read a bird's expression, but the phoenix's stance looked aggressive to him.

Harry shook his head, but Hermione bit her lower lip. Harry nodded at her, and she spoke up. "I am not sure… it looks a bit familiar… those runes…"

"It is what caused Miss Weasley to be controlled by Voldemort, back in your second year." The Headmaster carefully put the box down on his desk without touching the book inside it.

Harry tensed up while Hermione gasped. Dumbledore nodded at them. "Indeed. It was a dark artifact, and very dangerous - if Miss Weasley had been in its thrall for some time longer, she would have lost her life, maybe even her soul." He smiled sadly.

"What is it, Headmaster?" Harry asked, before Hermione hurt herself, trying to keep her curiosity in check.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "It contained a part of Voldemort's soul. As I found out he created it when he was but 16 years old, at Hogwarts even. Under my very nose, one could say, even if I wasn't the school's Headmaster at the time. Back then he seemed to be just a brilliant if ruthless student, and he was still using his real name: Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"WHAT?" Hermione was staring at the Headmaster. "The Dark Lord is a muggleborn?" The young witch blushed after realizing her faux pas - as Harry's retainer, she couldn't interrupt a conversation between her Patron and the Headmaster.

The old wizard raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "It's quite a surprise to find someone familiar with that name." Harry had to agree - he wouldn't have recognized the name.

Hermione's blush didn't fade, she flinched, embarrassed by her outburst, understandable though it was. She looked at Harry, and he nodded at her, indicating she could speak now.

Hermione met Dumbledore's eyes, without flinching. "I researched the lives of some of the best muggleborn students of Hogwarts. But Tom Riddle died shortly after graduating. When he visited his muggle family all of them, including himself, were murdered by an unknown wizard…"

"As you no doubt just started to suspect, and as I have discovered, although only years after the fact, it was Tom who murdered his family. He faked his death. A year later he appeared as the last heir of the Gaunt Family, direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, the offspring of Merope Gaunt and Fitzgerald Cranstonwickle, both deceased. His mother, abandoned by his father before Tom was born, had been a Gaunt and had died in childbed. That much was true. That Cranstonwickle, a pureblood wizard, had raised and taught him in private was a complete fabrication though. But with the alleged father dead in the war against Grindelwald and the surviving Gaunts confirming the story - before they conveniently died in a potions accident - there was no one to expose that lie."

"What about his Patron? Wouldn't the Oath have prevented him from doing such things?" Hermione looked rather agitated.

"His Patron, Aloisius Breston, was a brave, but not very bright and far too trusting wizard. I am not certain how he did it, but Tom must have managed to trick him into allowing him to break the Oath, somehow - for a student who was so skilled in the Dark Arts that he managed to create a horcrux at the age of 16, such a feat would not be impossible at all. Breston did not remember anything, and with Tom apparently dead he had no cause to suspect anything either." Harry thought he detected a faint hint of grudging respect in Dumbledore's voice.

"Do his followers know that their Dark Lord is a muggleborn?" Harry asked.

"Are you thinking of revealing this information?" The Headmaster smiled slightly.

Harry nodded. Given how much hatred for 'mudbloods' the Death Eaters had, such a revelation should reduce Voldemort's power by quite a bit.

"Alas, such a revelation would be dismissed as a cheap lie. There is no proof anyone would believe. Tom Riddle is officially dead, and has been so for decades, and Voldemort is legally the head of the Gaunt Family." Dumbledore smiled ruefully. "If I had known all this when Voldemort started his first war, it could have done some good. But now? As we know thanks to Harry, Voldemort does not even look like Tom Riddle anymore."

Harry wanted to argue further - he almost desperately needed to hurt Voldemort somehow, to foil at least some of his plans - but the Headmaster had sounded quite convincing. So he changed the topic to something he and his retainer needed to know. "What exactly is a horcrux?"

"Simply put, a horcrux can be described as a soul anchor. It contains part of a wizard's soul, and as long as it exists, the wizard cannot truly die. His soul will not pass on, but become a shade. Unlike a ghost, it is able to possess creatures and humans. But its unnatural nature harms and sickens the body, causing it to slowly decay, and once it is dead, the shade will be forced to seek a new host. It is a truly wretched existence."

"That's what happened to Professor Quirrell." Harry stated. To decay and putrefy while still being alive, his body possessed by the Dark Lord… he shuddered at the horrifying fate the teacher must have suffered, and Hermione's grip on him tightened in response.

"Exactly. Most wizards using a horcrux would be limited to possess weak-willed creatures. Animals, and lowly ones at that. They would have to rely on followers or allies to help them possess or otherwise acquire a human body. Voldemort though is far more powerful than the average dark wizard. Even as a shade he managed to ambush and defeat poor Quirinius, allowing him to take control of his body." Dumbledore sighed loudly. "Most horcruxes are simple, but evil things. The results of one of the foulest rituals known to wizardkind, they corrupt everything and everyone near them, and are generally very hard to destroy." He pointed at the book. "As you can see, they can be destroyed though, if one knows how."

Harry saw Hermione inching forward on her seat, and he put his hand on her thigh, stopping her. She was too close already to that cursed book, in his opinion.

"This book was not a normal horcrux though - it contained not just a part of Voldemort's soul, but also his own memories at the time he created it. Tom created an intelligent item, a copy of his own mind, able to reason, plan and even communicate with others. An unparalleled feat, to be honest." Dumbledore continued his explanation. "When I destroyed it, I hoped that Voldemort's shade would disappear with it. It did not, as you know."

"He made more than one horcrux." Hermione whispered to herself. Harry wasn't sure if he should be proud or concerned that his retainer was so quick to see what Voldemort had done.

"He created more than one horcrux." The Headmaster looked at Hermione, apparently having overheard her as well. "If I had known that beforehand, I would have kept the book, to see if it could be used to find the other horcruxes. Hindsight, as they say, is always perfect."

Harry suddenly froze. If Dumbledore was so shocked after seeing what he had seen, did that mean…? "Did we just see Voldemort creating a horcrux?"

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Yes, Mister Potter."

"All his Dark Marks are horcruxes?!" Harry exclaimed. After what he had heard, that meant…

"If he he has done this with all of his marked Death Eaters, then all of them are horcruxes, carrying a part of Voldemort's soul within themselves."

Both Harry and Hermione were silent after hearing that, trying to understand what that meant. After a few minutes Hermione was biting her lips, and looked at her Patron. He nodded at her, She addressed the Headmaster once more. "He would have had to split his soul dozens of times for all his followers. Didn't that harm or at least hinder him?"

The Headmaster smiled at the question. "Ah, Miss Granger, it does harm him - but not in the way you might hope for. A soul is not finite. It is not diminished by splitting off a part of it - it cannot be diminished. Even the destruction of this book has not diminished Voldemort's soul." He sighed. "But the act of splitting one's soul to create a horcrux taints it. It corrupts the soul. Even if he dies with all of his horcruxes gone, Voldemort cannot enter the afterlife. He will forever be lost between the realms. An existence far worse than death, far worse than oblivion even. It is one of the worst prices the Dark Arts can demand, and he paid it willingly."

No one said anything for another minute after that somber declaration. Then Harry had another, even worse thought. "Headmaster?" He looked directly at the old wizard. "I have a link to Voldemort in my scar. I can see what he does, sometimes. Like when he was resurrected. And when he created a horcrux. And the prophecy said he'd mark me."

Hermione, picking up what he was thinking, was shaking her head and whispering "No. No. No!" while she grabbed his hand.

Harry went on even as his girlfriend started sobbing. "Am I a horcrux too?"

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "No. As you have unfortunately seen, creating a horcrux takes a ritual. It needs not just a sacrifice, but also preparations and intent. Voldemort had neither the time, nor the opportunity, nor the intention to make you into a horcrux. He wanted to kill you. "

He pointed at Harry's scar. "Something happened that night, Harry. Something that linked you and him, through your scar. But you did not become a horcrux. Voldemort has marked you, true - but not with his Dark Mark."

Harry smiled, immensely relieved. The Headmaster's words made sense. Hermione was still crying, but with relief, not grief, and was still holding his hand, hard enough to hurt. He didn't mind at all.

He, they, could deal with this. Together.

*****

Hermione Granger had trouble falling asleep, despite the fact that it had been very late when she and Harry had returned to the dorms. The Headmaster's revelations and explanations were just too disturbing for the young witch. While it was an immense relief to know that Harry was not a horcrux, despite his link to Voldemort, the things she had heard had left her in a near frantic state.

Dumbledore had been talking about the afterlife and souls as if they were well-known facts. He had mentioned magic that affected a soul, and the consequences of it, as if it had been observed and tested. And he was Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of Britain, not a man prone to accept things as true just because others thought they were.

The topic of souls and the afterlife was something Hermione hadn't wanted to think about, ever since she had started at Hogwarts. If souls existed, if there was a life after death, what did that say about religion? Most of the wizards in Britain followed Pagan gods - the Roman Pantheon. But as far as she knew from History of Magic and 'Hogwarts: A History', the British wizards had been mostly Christian for a millennium, until the Witch Hunts made most of them turn their back on Christianity, and embrace their old gods again. If the wizards knew that the afterlife was real, wouldn't they also know which religion got it right? Why would they switch back and forth for good, but rather political reasons if that could impact their fate after death? And if there was an afterlife, was there a god, or gods?

The young witch pressed her teeth together and forced that train of thoughts away. She didn't want to, couldn't deal with such disturbing questions. Not now. She had to focus on helping Harry. If each of Voldemort's marked followers was a horcrux, then the Dark Lord couldn't be killed for good until all of them were dead - destroyed. And Harry wouldn't be safe from that madman until then. The prophecy, and the way Harry - and herself, and their friends - had defeated him and foiled his plans in the past - would make sure Voldemort would never leave them be.

This link, through Harry's scar, was the key. It offered them insights into Voldemort's actions, true, but it also endangered Harry. Not just psychologically, but if Voldemort ever managed to use the link himself… she'd have to find out what exactly Harry's scar was, so they could take measures to protect him.

But she also had to research horcruxes, and the Dark Mark. The mark… When she had talked to Fleur about the tattoos many of Fleur's relatives wore, the French witch had told her that they served to track them, in case they got kidnapped. And she had been worried about revealing too much, or others could track them through it. If the Dark Mark followed the same principle, then Death Eaters could be tracked through it. Even if it was not a variant of the Protean Charm, but something unique, the principles would be similar enough - if each marked wizard or witch carried a part of Voldemort's soul, then that would already link them together.

But tracking was just one thing. There was magic that worked through links, affecting a part to affect the whole. Voodoo was famous for such spells. It wasn't something taught in Britain, as it was considered part of the Dark Arts. But as Sirius had told her and Harry, the Ministry considered a lot of perfectly acceptable and safe spells 'dark'. Hermione would have to look into that matter. For Harry, of course.

Focusing on those thoughts, the young witch finally fell asleep. She didn't think about how Dumbledore had mentioned that the Dark Arts might have let Voldemort break his Patron Oath. But she didn't forget it either.

*****

"Good evening, Severus. Have a seat, please." Albus Dumbledore waved, and a comfortable chair appeared in front of his desk. The Potions Master sat down, his usual scowling expression lightening slightly. Fawkes trilled and the head of House Slytherin glared at the phoenix, but that too, was normal.

"You wanted to speak to me, Headmaster?" Severus sat straight and stiff, but there was a touch of boredom in his expression. He probably thought this was another talk about his abrasive manners in the classroom, and outside of it. In a manner of speaking, he was correct.

"I did. Though it is not a school matter I need to talk to you about." Albus saw that Severus understood at once what the topic of their meeting would be. Not that it was difficult - there was scant else but school matters and Voldemort that the two talked about, not since Albus had refused to teach the younger wizard Alchemy, years ago.

"I haven't been contacted yet, or I would have informed you at once." Severus snapped. His temper was showing - though to be honest, Albus might have asked for news on that front a bit too often lately.

"It is not about that either." Albus said mildly. Severus's expression showed his annoyance - and his impatience. Albus went on before he could snap again. "It's about the Dark Mark. I have recently had a rather disturbing thought, a theory I would like to check." A theory he absolutely needed to test, in truth.

Severus gripped his left forearm with his right hand, his thumb rubbing over the spot where his mark was located. "What theory?" Now his face was expressionless, betraying nothing, and neither did his voice.

"It concerns the way it was created. Sooner or later, Voldemort will recruit more Death Eaters, if he has not already done so."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Severus pulled his left sleeve back, exposing the mark that was the result and sign of the worst mistake of his life. Albus drew his wand and started to cast. He had examined Severus's Dark Mark before, of course, and had not found anything but a clever if twisted variant of the Protean Charm. But that had been years ago, and he had not suspected what he now knew Voldemort was able to do.

At first glance, it still looked like a deceptively simple mark. Barely more than a magical tattoo. But a few detection spells revealed the tracking charm and the hex that allowed Voldemort to hurt Severus through the mark. Both were hidden well - not many would have found them. Fewer still would have suspected that there might be something else, buried even deeper in the complex spells of the mark. Albus certainly hadn't, back when he investigated the mark for the last time.

He knew better now, and he was one of the few who was both skilled and experienced enough to descend into the maze of enchantments Voldemort had woven into his mark. The Headmaster cast another spell, one he had picked up from a Curse-Breaker in Egypt in the 1920s. He didn't like to use it, since casting it required the fervent desire to gain knowledge no matter the cost - an attitude that had lured many a student towards the Dark Arts, if it was not held in check. Should Miss Granger ever learn this spell… he shuddered at the thought.

But while he was not as arrogant to think that he was immune to that particular temptation, it wasn't one of his biggest foibles. Not anymore. And he needed to know. For his own sake, and for Harry's, and for Severus's. And with that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and focused. He wanted to know the deepest, most hidden secrets of this mark. He needed to know them. Nothing else mattered but gaining this knowledge. Nothing!

Opening his eyes, he stared at the mark as if it was his nemesis. And it was - keeping that knowledge from him, hiding it it, hurting him by denying him! He pointed his wand, won from his last love, at this stubborn obstacle. "Detege Notitia!"

Before his eyes, the web of enchantments lit up, growing and unraveling, revealing the strands of magic it had hidden, the dark, foul lines that formed the core of the mark and kept it tethered to Severus. Those strands formed a small web, which held something, something tiny, yet vast. Bright, yet dark. He focused on it, studied it while he fought the nausea, the pain the mere act of observing it was causing him, for as long as he could.

Albus was trembling when he ended the spell, and even as experienced as he was, he barely managed to conjure a bowl before he emptied his stomach into it, shaking and sweating. Fawkes was on his shoulder, rubbing against his head, a comforting and familiar presence.

"Albus! Did you get cursed?" Severus had stood up, wand out. His arm must be hurting as well, Albus knew, but the Potions Master seemed to not even notice as he focused on the Headmaster. "Or is it poison?" His left hand, trembling, dug into his robe and pulled out a vial.

Abus held up a hand while he vanished the bowl and its contents. "No, I am not cursed, nor poisoned. Just… sickened."

Severus started to cast diagnostic spells, muttering the names of deadly and exotic maladies as he tried to find out what ailed the Headmaster. Albus shook his head, taking deep breaths. "No. No. I am fine." He wasn't - but the physical effects of observing a horcrux from so close, in such detail, would fade soon enough. He had experience with the diary, after all. But the knowledge he had gained… the pain it caused, and would cause… that would not fade quickly, if at all. "Please sit down Severus."

The younger wizard did, but grudgingly, muttering about stubborn old fools. His concern was touching, and made what Albus had to do even worse.

"I have grave news, Severus. My suspicion has been proven correct." And he explained.

Severus face had become a mask, devoid of any expression, by the time Albus had finished. "I see. It explains certain… outbursts… of mine, this year." His voice was cold, controlled. "I am keeping him alive, enabling him to return after death. Supporting him and his plans."

Albus wanted to deny it, but he couldn't "Yes, Severus. You, and, as I suspect, everyone else he has marked."

"And it is corrupting me. Corrupting my very soul." The Potions Master snorted. "At least it disproves those students who claim I have no soul." Albus could see that the younger wizard's teeth were grinding against each other, jaws clenched together. Despite the attempt at humor, he was deeply shaken, but tried not to show it. Just as he had not shown the pain he had suffered.

Again Albus could only nod and confirm what his friend was stating. "I will look into ways to…"

Severus shook his head. "... to extract the soul shard from me without killing me? That will take you a long time. Time you do not have. Not with him out there, recruiting new followers. He'll be growing in power and influence far too quickly if you do not spend your time checking his moves."

The Headmaster knew his friend was right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"And each day, his influence on me grows, pushing me, prodding me. How long until I start hurting my students?" He snorted. "More than I already did, to be precise. How long until you cannot trust me anymore? How long until I cannot trust me anymore? Until I am his mere tool, doing his bidding?"

"There are ways to prevent this." Draught of Living Death would keep Severus in a death-like coma. Petrification. Transfiguration.

"Yes. To keep me from hurting others. But nothing will keep his poison out of my soul. Nothing will stop the corruption." He glared at the Headmaster, daring him to contradict him. Albus didn't. "It was manageable, of sort - or just very, very slow - while he was but a shade, drifting. But now…" He shook his head. "I won't sacrifice my soul, Albus. I've sacrificed everything else."

Suddenly, Albus understood. He should have expected this - he knew the amount of self-loathing Severus was carrying around. "You plan to…"

"Yes."

Albus closed his eyes. There was nothing he could say.

"But I want my death to hurt him. As much as possible. I want him to curse the day he marked me when he hears of what I have done." Severus smiled at Albus, and the Headmaster almost shivered at the hatred that shone out of the man's eyes.

"Tell me the best way to achieve that, Albus!"

*****

"Why are we always the ones who get the high-profile, mired in politics, no one sane wants to touch them, cases?" Kenneth Fenbrick complained loudly on his way to the floos in the entrance hall of the Ministry for Magic.

"I think that's because you tried to seduce Madam Bones." Bertha Limmington stated, easily keeping pace with him, her red auror robes flowing around her legs, parting as needed to avoid hindering her movements.

"What? I did not! Where did you hear that?" The auror whipped his head around, staring at his partner, and almost walked into a pillar as a result. Trying to sleep with your boss was a bad idea. And stupid too, since there were a lot of young witches who were as pretty, and far more easily impressed by auror robes and a charming smile.

"Or maybe it's because you didn't try to seduce her." Bertha looked at him seriously, then her lips twitched and she smirked.

"Gah!" Kenneth huffed, and lengthened his steps. When he had wished for Bertha to loosen up, he hadn't meant she should start teasing him. Well, not that way. She even giggled as she followed him! He was supposed to be the one teasing her!

He reached the closest floo and dipped his hand into the powder container next to it - oversized, since it was a public floo.

"Malfoy Manor!"

*****

Kenneth whistled at the sight in the study of Lucius Malfoy. "Malfoy and Snape? Did someone kill both of them, or did they kill each other?" He wasn't fond of either of the men, but a case was a case. The study looked mostly undamaged though, so that would indicate a quick fight, with few stray spells.

"Snape's wand shows that a Sectumsempra was the last spell he cast." Bertha was crouching next to the dead Potions Master.

"That would fit the wounds on Malfoy. It was was quite a popular spell among Death Eaters in the last war." Kenneth wasn't about to kneel down on the blood-covered floor next to the wizard's desk. Malfoy had been cut in half and made a mess on his expensive carpet, whose enchantments had prevented the blood from soaking into it, but had not cleaned it up either. "His wand shows a Killing Curse as his last spell."

"Snape died to poison, not to the Killing Curse." Bertha was carefully checking Snape's robes.

Kenneth approved of her caution - who knew what kind of poisons the man had carried? - and followed her example with Malfoy's robe. "So he missed, and Snape didn't?"

"The damage to the wall next to the door matches the effect of a Killing Curse impacting on an enchanted wall." Bertha nodded to the wall while she levitated half a dozen stoppered vials out of Snape's pockets.

Kenneth waved his wand over the two parts of Malfoy's corpse. "Malfoy was poisoned as well, but died to the spell. What symmetry!" That comment earned him a glare from his partner. She didn't like him joking around while they were working. Tough!

"With all the protective spells on the robes it'll be hard to determine who poisoned who, and when." Bertha stated. Kenneth knew the enchantments, unless destroyed, would have recovered in the time it took for them to arrive, so they would give no hints to what spells were cast before.

"Yes. Especially since Malfoy had enough gold to buy any exotic poison he wanted, and Snape could have brewed most of them himself." Kenneth sighed. "And here's an unstoppered vial, probably poison, in a hidden pocket in Malfoy's robes. What a mess!" He was more annoyed at the amount of work this case would cause for him, than at the death of two men he honestly despised. He wouldn't say so, of course. Too easy for such remarks to get back to the Minister. "Let's talk to Mrs Malfoy. She saw Snape arrive. Maybe she has seen or heard something useful." Kenneth didn't expect much - witches like Mrs Malfoy tended to neither hear nor see anything, unless they could personally benefit from it.

*****

"According to Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape came to visit Lucius Malfoy, rather late in the evening. He seemed agitated, but not aggressive, and she didn't follow them into her husband's study. She was alerted by a house elf a bit later, but only arrived to find both of them dead." Bertha was speaking in a precise, almost monotone manner. Kenneth often found it aggravating, but since she was currently giving their report to Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE, he couldn't complain.

Madam Bones nodded. "So, we have an inconclusive crime scene, and a lack of witnesses."

"Not even the house elves heard anything. Malfoy took his privacy dead seriously." Kenneth spoke up, then tried not to flinch when both Bertha and Bones stared at him. Two attractive witches, and neither appreciated his wit.

Bertha continued. "We proceeded to search Severus Snape's quarters at Hogwarts and speak with his colleagues among the staff."

'Colleagues' was correct, Kenneth thought - Snape certainly hadn't had any friends. Not at Hogwarts, and not anywhere else, in his opinion.

"Everyone was quite cooperative. According to their testimonies, he had been far more irritated and angrier in the last two terms than usual. Headmaster Dumbledore stated that he had several talks with him concerning his abrasive attitude towards students."

"Any particular target of his anger?" Bones asked.

"No. Even his own house had started to complain according to the Headmaster. But no one had heard him mentioning Lucius Malfoy."

Kenneth took over. "Searching his quarters though was quite productive." He pointed to a small book floating next to them. "He kept a journal for the last few months. Very interesting."

"Give me the summary." Bones leaned forward, staring at the small book.

"It details how he noticed that he had started to feel more aggressive. Angrier. Even violent. All after his Dark Mark had grown, well, darker. As dark as it had been when You-Know-Who had still been alive."

"When did that happen?" Bones was staring at him now, and Kenneth felt like an auror cadet again. It was worse than meeting Dumbledore.

"Right after the incident at the fourth task, Ma'am." At least he didn't stand up and salute. "But the last page is the most important. He wrote that he planned to meet Lucius Malfoy and demand answers. Apparently he suspected Malfoy to know about the reasons behind this since, and I quote 'Malfoy was the Dark Lord's right hand. If he is back, Malfoy would know. He is marked as well' Snape also wrote that he has left the journal in case something happened to him at the Malfoy's."

"Could this journal be faked?"

"The preservation spells on it make judging the precise age of the entries difficult, but the writing is his. It also has traces of older spells on it. Presumably to hide and protect it." Bertha answered.

"Does Dumbledore know about this journal?"

"We confronted him with it. He said he wished he would have known of this earlier, to avoid such a tragedy."

"That sounds like what he would say." Bones snorted. "Do we have evidence that Malfoy had been growing angrier and more violent as well during the last few months?" Bones expression didn't show any of her thoughts.

Bertha hesitated. "No solid evidence, but some of Narcissa Malfoy's statements could have been hinting at such a development."

"Could she have killed both of them?"

Kenneth's partner nodded. "It would have been technically possible, but her wand was clean, and she offered to take veritaserum to support her testimony." There were ways around that, of course, obliviation first and foremost, but it was very hard to replace a memory without leaving telltale signs.

"And it would have been quite a feat for Mrs Malfoy to surprise and overcome both her husband and Snape, and then arrange the situation in a manner that it looks like they killed each other." Kenneth added. "Not impossible, but a bit far-fetched."

"Narcissa could also have been working with either of them against the other." Bones added. "That's all speculation so far, though. To sum it up: The evidence gathered until now points to the Dark Mark influencing Snape into becoming more violent, to the point where he is so worried, he confronts Malfoy, who he suspects to be under the same influence, and he expected to be in danger during the visit. The two head into Malfoy's study, and are found dead a short time later."

"Yes, Ma'am." Kenneth nodded.

"So, we do not have anything solid yet to crack this case." Sighing, Bones leaned back in her seat. Kenneth didn't envy her right then. She would be under a lot of pressure from the Minister and the Wizengamot to solve the murder of such a prominent and well-connected wizard.

"Ma'am. Do you believe You-Know-Who is back?" Kenneth hated how weak his voice sounded when he asked, but to imagine the Dark Lord returned...

Bones looked grim. "We've only got the speculation of a dead man who was, by his own accounts, mentally influenced while he wrote. That's not exactly solid evidence."

It didn't mean that she didn't believe, of course. But Kenneth wouldn't push the issue.

"Anything else? I'll have to inform the Minister, who is still shocked at losing his 'close friend' in such a manner."

"We're still waiting for the analysis from the potioneers to identify the poisons used. But I think a search of the entire Malfoy Manor might be helpful in determining what exactly Malfoy had at hand." Bertha presented a parchment to the head of the DMLE.

Bones nodded, signed the order and handed it back. "Search it."

*****

Ron Weasley stared at the headline of the Daily Prophet Hermione had just received. 'Malfoy and Snape dead - Dark Mark at fault?' and 'Diary of a Death Eater: Is the Dark Lord back?' He glanced at Harry and Hermione, but his two best friends looked as shocked as he felt. They hadn't known about that either then. And Snape and Draco Malfoy had been missing from Hogwarts since yesterday. So that had been the reason for the auror visit! "Merlin's Balls! Those rumors had been right! Snape was killed!"

Hermione was devouring the articles, with Harry reading over her shoulder. Ron craned his head, then stood up and followed Harry's example. That was more important than eating.

It didn't take long to read both articles - Skeeter hadn't exactly written books. But what she had written… Ron shook his head. "Snape and Lucius Malfoy killed each other?" It made no sense to him. If they were influenced by the horcruxes, wouldn't they work together instead?

"Apparently." Hermione said, her expression leaving no doubt that she didn't think that had happened.

All over the Great Hall, students were clustered together, discussing the shocking news. Their friends were no exception.

"How did Rita get this information?" Luna asked. "She must have violated some laws to get that much inside information!" The blonde Ravenclaw pouted, seemingly more concerned with the scoop the competition of her father's magazine had managed than with the murder of a teacher or the possible return of the Dark Lord.

"I am more interested in knowing why Fudge didn't suppress this. Malfoy was one of his closest friends, after all." Ron stated while making room for Padma to sit down next to him, pushing Ginny a bit more towards Neville. His sister didn't seem to mind.

"That's easy: Malfoy was close to Fudge, but Snape was close to Dumbledore. Anyone attacking either over this would be attacking both." Neville answered.

"I guess that explains why Snape has been so nasty this year." Ginny shuddered, and hunched her shoulders, staring at the table. Such a thing would make her remember her first year, and the horrors she had been through, Ron realized with a start.

"It wasn't as if the git was nice before. But he was really bad this year." Ron hugged his sister. It was a testament to just how much she was affected by the news that she waited a full minute before she pushed him away.

"I still want to know how Rita heard about this first!" Luna huffed. Aicha patted the blonde's head and her little genie flittered around both, touching their hair and casting what looked like weak charms on individual strands and locks.

Padma, leaning into Ron, asked what everyone was probably thinking, but no one had dared to ask yet: "Is You-Know-Who back?" She was whispering, but looking at Harry and Hermione, who quickly found themselves the center of attention in their circle of friends.

Ron of course knew the answer, but had been sworn to secrecy. Harry shifted on his seat, and exchanged glances with Hermione. The witch nodded so slightly, Ron almost missed it, and Harry sighed. He cast a privacy charm on their corner, then leaned forward. "Don't spread this, OK?" Everyone nodded, and the young wizard continued. "Yes, we believe that the Dark Lord is back. The evidence is quite compelling."

Upon hearing this, Padma hugged Ron and buried her face into his shoulder, trembling. Their friends shuddered and gasped. All but one.

"Oh! Do you have further evidence? Something not mentioned in the Prophet? Can I have a quote?" Luna had pulled out her oversized pad and quill, already scribbling down notes.

"Luna!" Hermione huffed. "What part of 'don't spread this' didn't you understand?"

It took Hermione the promise of an exclusive 'press preview' for the next Movie Night to convince Luna not to share this. Ron, who had known the blonde witch far longer than anyone else at the table, apart from Ginny of course, couldn't help thinking that she had planned that. He didn't mention that to Harry or Hermione, of course. It was too amusing, and they needed all the laughter they could get on such a dark day.

*****

On the way to see Cornelius Fudge, Albus pondered the events of this morning. Rita had written the articles the way Albus had expected her - sensational, exaggerated, and rife with speculation. It had been a good idea to send her a duplicate of Severus's 'journal', with a note stating it was 'in case someone finds and destroys the original'. Severus probably had enjoyed playing his part in telling Madam Rosmerta to mail a package should the Potions Master fail to retrieve it by the next morning. Her testimony would help making the whole setup more believable, and after the reading the headlines this morning, the witch would have contacted the DMLE at once.

To think Severus had killed himself with Basilisk poison, just to make absolutely sure the horcruxes were destroyed. It was a very painful way to die. But in a weird, tragic way it fit him. The Potions Master's life had been full of pain - caused by his own actions, and by those of others. Albus hoped he had found some peace, at last.

Severus had gotten his last wish, though. By his actions, Voldemort had lost Lucius Malfoy, his richest and most influential follower. The effect of the Dark Marks on a bearer's mind had been revealed as well, which would make people wary of those who had claimed to have been imperiused, further limiting the Dark Lord's influence. Some of the smarter potential recruits might even refuse joining him knowing this. And people were now aware of the possibility of Voldemort's return, without Albus having to expose his own knowledge and sources.

Indeed, Severus had done a lot of damage to Tom's plans. If only he hadn't died to achieve it.

"The Minister is waiting inside." Cornelius's secretary announced.

"Thank you, Lucas." Albus smiled at the young man - Ravenclaw, passed his N.E.W.T.s three years ago - and entered into the office of the Minister for Magic.

Cornelius was, understandably, throwing a fit over the revelations in the Daily Prophet. "Albus! Did you know about this?" He waved the newspaper around, causing the pictures of Severus and Lucius on the front page to hold tightly to their frames lest they'd be thrown around.

The Headmaster calmly took a seat. Dealing with the Minister usually took a bit of time, and he was not getting any younger. "What exactly is the problem, Cornelius?"

"What is the problem? Those articles not only claim that I was friends with a Death Eater, but that You-Know-Who is back!" The Minister was taking deep breaths and Albus could see that the enchantments on his robe were working hard to keep the garment from rumpling and him from sweating.

"That seems to be the gist of the articles, yes. Though to be precise, Rita did not claim that the Dark Lord is back, but only speculated that he could be back."

"Speculation, or not, it's causing a panic! We have to do something! The Ministry is getting flooded with letters about this, this scare!"

"Understandable, given the circumstances." Albus stated, carefully avoiding to show any sign of the slight amusement he felt at watching Cornelius fret.

The Minister stopped pacing around and stared at the old wizard. "Merlin's staff! It's true then!" He paled and waved at his chair, which quickly rolled over to him. He sagged more than he sat down in it, rubbing his face. "How long have you known?" he asked, without looking at the old wizard.

"I have suspected it for some time. But Severus did not talk to me, not until it was too late." Which was true.

"It started at the end of the Triwizard Tournament… that scandal with the Faithful and the ritual sacrifice?" Cornelius looked up at Albus. The man had a keen mind for politics, if not for much more.

"It fits the timeline."

"To think I spent days dealing with the irate High Priest over this!" The Minister took a deep breath. "Dol… Umbridge?"

"It is possible that she was being influenced as well, but I do not think she is marked. You know her views of non-humans."

"Yes. That crazy witch just lives to make my life difficult. Every Wizengamot member with a veela mistress complained! What about Azkaban?" A wizard who didn't know Cornelius very well would think him quite sharp, detecting the Dark Lord's machinations so quickly, now that he knew about his return, but Albus was quite certain that Cornelius was simply going through all of the problems he had had lately.

"I believe he freed his followers, and replaced them with kidnapped and polyjuiced victims." Albus answered. "The Unspeakables are working on ways to test for such things."

"Good, good. As long as the Ministry's doing something. That explains the disappearances at least. What about the referee scandal?"

"I do not believe the Dark Lord was involved in the fixing of Quidditch matches." Albus smiled gently.

"It almost turned into a riot when it came out. Quidditch is very important for Britain, Albus!"

Maybe Cornelius was on to something - it wouldn't hurt to look into it. Much. "The aurors in charge of the case should be able to find out if there's someone else involved."

"And what about Luci… Malfoy and Snape?" Cornelius started to get over his shock.

The Minister would know that both he and Albus were affected by that. Just as Albus had planned. "Severus was struggling bravely against the insidious influence his mark had on him. He died rather than to succumb."

"That could fit Malfoy too. A double-suicide?"

That would avoid a lot of problems for the Ministry. "It's possible. Though an investigation of Lucius's latest activities might uncover some ugly deeds as well as leads to more Death Eaters - or even to Voldemort himself."

Cornelius cringed at hearing the name of the Dark Lord, but recovered. "Well, he has been acting a bit odd in the last few months. I didn't mention it, since I thought it was just a passing illness, or stress, but in hindsight…"

Albus nodded. It was a plausible story. "No one else noticed anything either, after all."

"Exactly!" The Minister beamed at the Headmaster.

"There's still the matter of the measures to take now, to counter the threat the Dark Lord poses to Britain. And to the Ministry."

"Yes, yes. The Ministry needs to do something. I trust you already have had some thoughts you'd like to share concerning that?"

Albus genuinely smiled. With Lucius out of the picture, working with Cornelius would be far easier. "As a matter of fact, I do."

*****

Pansy Parkinson was still in shock a day after the incredible news had been broken by the Daily Prophet. Draco's father and Professor Snape, both dead! Probably died at each other's hand even! Draco still had not returned to Hogwarts after he had left for his family emergency. He wouldn't for a few more days, Pansy thought - he was now the head of the Malfoy Family. His mother as his guardian would be taking care of things, of course, until Draco graduated from Hogwarts and could focus on managing his own affairs.

Pansy laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, and snorted. Draco was no Lucius, and no Narcissa. If he knew what was good for him, he'd let his mother manage the estate for a decade or two. Not that Draco knew what was good for him. He'd take over on his 17th birthday and probably end up ruining his family before he reached 20. Merlin! As the new head of his family, he'd probably try to 'teach Potter his place' again. She had to ditch the fool sooner rather than later - it wasn't that long until their sixth year anyway.

She should, but ditching him now, when he had just lost his father, wouldn't help her reputation. Those who didn't know Draco well - which was most of the older generation - would only see a half-orphan abandoned by his girlfriend just when he needed her the most.

Suddenly, she had a chilling, horrible thought. Daco had been getting along very well with his father, or so he had told her often enough - even or especially since the end of their 4th year. Right when the Dark Marks had started to grow darker. She started to tremble when she realized the possible implications. Draco's relationship with his father got better, not worse, while the Dark Lord's influence on Lucius grew!

It was one thing to stand up for the pureblood rights and privileges, to make sure everyone knew their place. It was another to be mind controlled by a Dark Lord. Standing up, Pansy started to pace, uncaring what her dorm mates thought. She needed a way to ditch Draco, before things got out of hand. And she needed a way to do so that wouldn't make him angry at her. She needed a good plan, and she needed it fast!

*****

Voldemort threw the newspaper to the ground. That cursed spy! That traitor! Killing Lucius! Exposing him! And after he had taken such pains to hide his return! And then dying, so he couldn't even punish him for his crimes! And that wretched fool had no family left who could be punished in his stead. either.

The Dark Lord glared at the newspaper, at the picture of the traitor, and flicked his wand. The paper burst into flames, and for a brief moment, he enjoyed watching the picture of Snape try to escape the encroaching flames, before getting consumed by them, disappearing in apparent agony.

It didn't last though. His situation had not changed. He was not strong enough, yet, to challenge the Ministry and Dumbledore openly. His followers whom he had freed from Azkaban still needed time to recover, mentally, if not physically. And they needed wands fitted to them, not the ones taken from mudbloods.

And he needed to find out what Snape knew, and what Dumbledore might now know. Had Lucius talked before his death? Had he been interrogated? The man had known occlumency, so his thoughts would have been safe - mostly. Veritaserum would have defeated most of that defense, but that would have left traces. The aurors would know if such a thing had happened, but his best contact to the Ministry had just died. But Macnair might be able to find out more - the man had never been exposed as one of his followers, and should not be under suspicion.

But the others, those who had claimed to have been forced into his service by the Imperius, and had gotten away with it, they would be under suspicion. Under scrutiny. Voldemort hadn't contacted them so far. They had earned his ire for abandoning him so quickly after his defeat. But he had counted on their contacts, gold and influences to serve him, when he made his bid to take control of the Ministry. That would now be far more difficult.

Sitting down at his desk, the Dark Lord calmed down. He was far from beaten. Those of his followers who hadn't met him yet now knew he was back, and knew that he was their best hope to stay free and rich. They might not like it, but they had no other choice now than to rally behind his banner. No one else would trust them. He had gold - Malfoy had been quite generous, after a little pressure had been applied. And he had allies and recruits. And given his well-earned reputation, panic would be striking the hearts of the weak, foolish population of Wizarding Britain. Panic he could use. Maybe he was strong enough already to start fighting more openly.

But he needed wands for his most trusted followers. Ollivander was out of the question - Dumbledore would be watching. He wasn't the only wandmaker, just the best in Britain. But is faithful followers, his Bella, deserved the best.

It was time for a little trip abroad.

Chapter 22: Preparations and Diversions

Ack · Jul 16, 2015

Wow.

A few alterations from accepted canon, I see. Harry's not a horcrux, but the Dark Marks are.

I notice that Hermione and Harry are much more informal in private these days, and the other boys in the dorm seem to be okay with him being 'cheered up in private' by her (even if it's not happening).

Is it just me, or is the Patron/Ward flavour starting to leave this story? Because there was no mention of it this chapter at all that I could see.

(Not a criticism, just a comment).

Starfox5 · Jul 16, 2015

Ack said:
Wow.

A few alterations from accepted canon, I see. Harry's not a horcrux, but the Dark Marks are.

I don't really think that it makes much sense that one of the darkest rituals can be done by accident. It makes even less sense that Harry is blood protected from Voldemort, to the point of blasting him to ashes when attacked, yet can be turned into a horcrux. By accident.

Ack said:
I notice that Hermione and Harry are much more informal in private these days, and the other boys in the dorm seem to be okay with him being 'cheered up in private' by her (even if it's not happening).

That scene was not described, but it would have seen Hermione and Harry acting formally, since Sean and Dean are not close friends. Although just about everyone expected and accepted that Hermione would be Harry's mistress for years, so most would assume she'd 'cheer him up' that way.

Ack said:
Is it just me, or is the Patron/Ward flavour starting to leave this story? Because there was no mention of it this chapter at all that I could see.

(Not a criticism, just a comment).

Most of the scenes lately have been "private". The Patron/Retainer appearances will return with more public scenes. The Patron Oath as well as the fact that Voldemort managed to get out of it was mentioned in this chapter though - its still central to the story.

Though on second thought, the scene with Dumbledore was too informal - Dumbledore is not a close friend, after all. I should rewrite that.

steamrick · Jul 16, 2015

I think this is the first time I've come across the concept of the Dark Mark being a Horcrux.

I've read about the Dark Mark being a lot of things - from merely enabling communication and recognition up to being a magical cattle brand - but I've never seen this before.
Why have I never seen this used before? Surely it can't be that novel a concept?

Ack said:
Is it just me, or is the Patron/Ward flavour starting to leave this story? Because there was no mention of it this chapter at all that I could see.

There were only two scenes with Harry and Hermione in it in the first palce...

In scene one, they were emotionally compromised and 'only' in the company of Dumbledore, who they know doesn't care about propriety all that much (in private at least).
In scene two it was breakfast amongst friends and we skipped a 'my wand' moment by them being already seated.

... aaaaaaaaand ninja'd by the author.

Starfox5 · Jul 16, 2015

I rewrote the talk with Dumbledore. It should be more formal now. Dumbledore is, after all, not a close friend or family (which, as I mentioned a bit in the earlier chapter, he regrets a lot, especially come Yuletide).

steamrick said:
I think this is the first time I've come across the concept of the Dark Mark being a Horcrux.

I've read about the Dark Mark being a lot of things - from merely enabling communication and recognition up to being a magical cattle brand - but I've never seen this before.
Why have I never seen this used before? Surely it can't be that novel a concept?

I can't name a story, but I do believe that this idea has been done before.

macdjord · Jul 17, 2015

Starfox5 said:
I don't really think that it makes much sense that one of the darkest rituals can be done by accident.

It does if he was planning to use Harry's death - the death of the one prophesied to defeat him - to make his 6th and last horcrux, and therefore had performed some or all of the necessary preparations.

Starfox5 said:
It makes even less sense that Harry is blood protected from Voldemort, to the point of blasting him to ashes when attacked, yet can be turned into a horcrux. By accident.

Canonically, the only things known to destroy a horcrux are fiendfire, basilisk venom, and (possibly; not sure if it was actually stated in the books) the killing curse. It's not much of a stretch to say that destroying a horcrux was beyond the power of the wards, so all they could do was protect him from its influence. (Note that merely wearing the locket for a matter of days had the trio at each others' throats, yet the scar was attached to Harry's skull for 13 years before he got so much as a bad dream.)

Andrew Greaves · Jul 17, 2015

Starfox5 said:
I can't name a story, but I do believe that this idea has been done before.

I know that I had the notion of the Dark Mark being a Horcrux years ago, though in my case it was actually a single Horcrux which happened to exist in multiple locations simultaneously.

It was also bonded with their life forces, and the basic idea was for everyone who'd been Marked to die with Voldemort. Possibly involving some sort of magical explosion, dimensional vortex, or whatever, as their magic got sucked away.

Also, conscripts...

Starfox5 · Jul 17, 2015

macdjord said:
It does if he was planning to use Harry's death - the death of the one prophesied to defeat him - to make his 6th and last horcrux, and therefore had performed some or all of the necessary preparations.

I still do not buy it. It trivializes the Dark Arts if you can create a horcrux by accident. And with the wrong container.

macdjord said:
Canonically, the only things known to destroy a horcrux are fiendfire, basilisk venom, and (possibly; not sure if it was actually stated in the books) the killing curse. It's not much of a stretch to say that destroying a horcrux was beyond the power of the wards, so all they could do was protect him from its influence. (Note that merely wearing the locket for a matter of days had the trio at each others' throats, yet the scar was attached to Harry's skull for 13 years before he got so much as a bad dream.)

Canoncically, the Killing Curse cannot be reflected or protected against, apart from using hard cover. Harry's protection did it anyway. I tend to go with "piece of soul stuck in scar", or "the scar, not Harry is the horcrux".

Andrew Greaves said:
I know that I had the notion of the Dark Mark being a Horcrux years ago, though in my case it was actually a single Horcrux which happened to exist in multiple locations simultaneously.

It was also bonded with their life forces, and the basic idea was for everyone who'd been Marked to die with Voldemort. Possibly involving some sort of magical explosion, dimensional vortex, or whatever, as their magic got sucked away.

Also, conscripts...

I saw the "Voldemort is dying, starts to drain his followers through the marks to sustain himself" idea used a number of times, but it wasn't usually connected to a horcrux. Here though Voldemort created his first Horcrux, but dismissed it as a first, not optimal attempt, and went to create the Dark Mark version. He alluded to that in an earlier chapter.

I am also curious: Did anyone get the foreshadowing with the "recruit brings a sacrifice, but Voldemort makes the kill" memory from Macnair? Or Keith's recruitment scene?

Prince Charon · Jul 17, 2015

Starfox5 said:
I can't name a story, but I do believe that this idea has been done before.

I think I've seen it on occasion, as well as read a fic written before Book Five came out, that had the Dark Marks doing pretty much what the Horcruces did in canon.

It might also be a component of some 'kill all Death Eaters by casting the Killing Curse directly into a Dark Mark' fics.

macdjord · Jul 17, 2015

Starfox5 said:
I am also curious: Did anyone get the foreshadowing with the "recruit brings a sacrifice, but Voldemort makes the kill" memory from Macnair? Or Keith's recruitment scene?

I figured that it meant that giving the mark required a ritual sacrifice, and I thought that was an interesting departure from the common idea that getting the mark required a sacrifice performed by the recipient. I didn't guess that it was a Horcrux, mostly because of the canon facts that each Horcrux created splits the soul further and that Voldemort sought to create exactly 6 of them (and thus 7 soul pieces in total).

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