Note: The story is now completed and betaed, but mugglenet always takes extremely long to approve chapters and post them. Next week I'll be going to Australia for half a year, and it'll be difficult to update from there. If you want to read the last chapters (there are only two more), please go to fanfiction.net. My author name there is "bagheera" and the story has the same title, of course. Thank you very much for reading!
Chapter 30 - Voldemort's Victory
Tom noticed the sombre demeanour of the other three wizards who were waiting with him at the Hogwart’s Apparition Point the next morning. Were they having second thoughts about this plan like he was? Although Tom knew the plan was sound, there were too many people he had to rely on for it to work. He trusted Dumbledore as far as it was possible for him to trust anyone but himself. But both Aberforth and Ollivander were unknowns and so far had been unreliable. As for Snape, who hadn’t arrived yet, he was an outright traitor.
It had rained during the night and the grass was soft and wet, with mist rising into the air at the approach of dawn. Ollivander was waiting for them at the Apparition Point, a grey figure in the morning mist, giving Aberforth some last instructions. Tom eyed him warily but not without curiosity. Now that he knew that the wand-maker had achieved immortality long before him, Ollivander merited a closer look. There were certain similarities between Voldemort and this little ancient wizard: the unnatural colour of their eyes, the way their magic felt slightly different, and the fact that he neither blinked nor breathed.
Snape arrived, wrapped in a billowing black hooded cloak, his Death Eater's attire. As they heard his steps approaching in the dewy grass, Aberforth and Ollivander stopped talking. Aberforth hid the knife he would use to stab Harry's body in a fold of his tattered brown cloak. Snape wasn't to know anything about their plan.
"Will he be accompanying us, too?" Snape asked, glaring at Ollivander.
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, just the four of us. Are we ready, gentlemen?"
Ollivander nodded, giving a little bow to Dumbledore and then walked away, melting into the mist. The sun was rising now, bathing Hogwarts in an unreal, enchanted glow. A bird called from the lake.
Tom turned his back on the castle, moving to the Apparition Point. He was just getting ready to Apparate, when Dumbledore grasped his elbow, gave him a pointed look and said: "Side-along Apparition, Mr Potter."
Right. They had to make Snape think that he was still Harry. He smiled blandly at Dumbledore, hiding his irritation.
Snape was first to disappear, almost soundlessly, after giving Tom another hard, suspicious stare. Aberforth followed with a small crunching noise, like someone walking on snow.
Dumbledore gently pressed his elbow, and as the world blackened around them for a second, Tom was sure that he would not return. It felt like a knife was twisting in his guts, ripping out ties (that he hadn't known had been there) to this place.
They reappeared on a lonely strip of coast. The air smelled of the cold green waves crashing onto the sand and the wind swept a faint spray of saltwater into their faces. The sun in the east over the sea was dimmed by a veil of grey clouds.
Aberforth had vanished under a Disillusionment Spell, but Tom could still feel his presence like a dent in the soft fabric of magic currents in the air. The magic was different here than in Hogwarts, less intense and more like a quiet pervading chill.
Dumbledore, too, had taken on some form of invisibility. To Tom, who knew he was there, he was only slightly blurred as if the air around him was very hot, but to anyone who didn't expect him he would be invisible. Tom had never seen or known anyone but himself who was able to do it so perfectly.
Snape led them to a narrow boat that had barely enough room to carry four people. Magic kept it from being washed away by the sea. Snape climbed into it first, Dumbledore and Tom followed and Aberforth took the rear.
Tom took his seat on the wet and cold wood, facing Dumbledore, who was too tall to sit comfortably. Tom tried to look impassive, as a victim of the Imperius Curse would, since that was how they intended to make it look.
At a flick of Snape's wand, the boat glided off the shore and into the open sea. It should have been rocked by the waves, but it moved straight as a plough through the water that lapped noisily at its side. The air grew colder with each minute and even though the sun must have been rising, it grew darker. An unnatural fog lay on the water, stirring lazily around their boat. Behind him, Tom could feel Aberforth's presence growing weaker and more silent, like a conscious mind that drifted off into sleep.
He could see no further than a few yards into the fog by now and the cold became oppressing, interlaced with a heavy darkness that weighed right down onto his heart. They were coming close to Azkaban.
Some of the shadows around them grew solid, circling their boat like vultures. Tom looked at Dumbledore. His face was lined with concentration, but his eyes were calm and undisturbed as if nothing could harm them.
Dementors had never affected him that badly before he lived Harry's life. After the severing of his soul, Voldemort had felt almost comfortable in the presence of these creatures. Now it was all Tom could do to try and fend them off with Occlumency, but he couldn't suppress all of the cold and depression seeping into his mind. It frightened him how easily every good feeling could be taken away from him. His confidence seemed foolish now. Weren't hatred and fear much more powerful? They at least could not be stolen from him so easily; they were constants, growing only stronger in time…
He was reassured when Dumbledore put a hand on his arm and squeezed it tightly. It was a small and wordless touch, too short to leave anything behind but a fleeting feeling of warmth, but it was a clear vote of confidence and trust. Their quiet exchange was interrupted by the jolt that went through the boat as it crashed onto a sandy shore.
Dumbledore let go of him immediately and Snape rose, jumping out of the boat. The fog was so thick down here that until then, Tom hadn't noticed the rocks all around them and the dreary edifice rising before them.
Two hooded figures came down from the fortress. One of them had his wand raised. Tom remained sitting still as a statue, but Dumbledore rose quietly to his full height, unseen by the two Death Eaters, and climbed out of the boat. Anyone who didn't know he was there wouldn't have seen the water stirred by his feet or his footsteps in the sand as he walked a few steps towards the castle.
The Death Eaters had lowered their wand and were talking to Snape, their voices lost in the rolling of the waves. At one point they both gasped in surprise and stared at the boat and its only visible passenger. Snape returned and seized Tom by his upper arm, almost at the same place where Dumbledore had touched him minutes earlier. He led him up the shore to the two others and Tom felt like a lone steer being driven to the slaughter.
Neither of the two men both wore their silver masks, but Tom didn't recognize their faces as they stared at him. Snape, too, threw him another intense look, but this time he wasn't trying to read Tom's mind, he merely frowned and after a second his frown turned into a mask of arrogance.
"I'm not here to waste time. Today is the day of the Dark Lord's triumph," Snape said.
"Our Master is in the inner court. Some of us have captured the crew of a Muggle ship and a reporter from the Daily Prophet was hiding on it, Sir," the younger of the two said with reverence.
"I'm sure he will be delighted to be interrupted by this," Snape answered coldly and led Tom up to a flight of slippery stairs that had been carved into the rocks. Tom didn't look back; he stared vapidly ahead, keeping up the illusion of a person under the Imperius Curse. Behind them he could sense the headmaster and his brother following them.
**
Azkaban was covered in dark magic. Decay and despair leaked out of every hole and every corner. It grew like fungus on the ground and rose into the air like the deadly fumes of poison. Every sensible wizard should have been able to tell that this place was cursed and Dumbledore had told the ministry countless times to give the fortress up, to install the prison elsewhere, not to deal with the creatures who inhabited the island, but for some reason they were unable or unwilling to see it.
Since Voldemort had made Azkaban his own, the feel of the place had shifted into a more aggressive direction, it had been an illness before, but now it was sentient malice.
Albus hated coming here, and yet he had had to visit the fortress numerous times in the last twenty years. The prison and its soulless guards were one of the few things that truly scared him.
But now, as he climbed the few steep stairs that led up to the main entrance, he was grateful for the all-consuming aura of evil that hung in the air, for it hid his presence more perfectly than any spell.
Both Severus and Tom were doing their part very well and he was proud of them, but also afraid for them.
The door was opened and they stepped inside. He and Aberforth barely managed to slip through before the second Death Eater closed it.
They entered a dark, smoke-filled hall. Another flight of stairs led up and down from here, and at the end of the hall was another heavy wooden door. A flickering torch was the only source of light. It could have been winter or night; there was no way to tell in this place.
A third Death Eater came down the flight of stairs. At first Dumbledore didn't recognise the tall gaunt man with the deathly pale and hollowed face, but then he noticed the colourless hair spilling out of his hood. It was Lucius Malfoy, terribly altered by only a few weeks in prison.
"Severus," Malfoy greeted, but then he stopped, raising his brows as he spotted Harry. "What a surprise."
The older of the two Death Eaters who had received them at the shore approached Malfoy, throwing Snape a suspicious glance. "Sir, do you believe this is the real Harry Potter? What if it is a ploy “?"
Malfoy silenced him with a raised hand, giving Snape a mirthless smile. "Don't be ridiculous. Severus may be an incorrigible turncoat, but he isn't stupid. Of course he doubled-checked that this is the real Boy Who Lived."
Malfoy had just begun to study 'Harry' a little bit more when a terrible shriek startled everyone in the room. It came from the door that led to the inner court of the fortress and lasted for a few seconds before it dropped to a hoarse, inhuman wail. Lucius, thankfully, was looking at Snape at that moment, but Dumbledore wasn't sure whether the other two Death Eaters had noticed that Tom had reacted and looked at the door like everyone else did before he returned to his act of a mindless captive. The older one frowned strangely at the boy and then he opened his mouth. But no sound came from him and after a beat he closed it again, looking confused. He scratched his chin and shuffled at little.
Tom looked no different than before, but then Dumbledore glimpsed the way Snape was holding his wand half-hidden by his long sleeves and he realized that Snape had reacted quickly in this dangerous situation.
"Enough," Snape said, in answer to something Lucius had said before. "I and I alone have done this service to the Dark Lord and I will present him with the boy."
He seized Tom by the shoulder and opened the door to the court, leading them through. Malfoy followed suit and Aberforth slipped through unnoticed. Dumbledore took his chance as the confounded Death Eater lingered a second.
**
The court was a square place surrounded on all sides by the walls of the prison. It was devoid of all colour or life and the ashen ground looked as if it had never seen the light of the sun. It was the place where the nameless dead of Azkaban were hurriedly buried without a sign or inscription to remember them.
Now it was filled with people in dark robes. They looked more like the sightless Dementors that crowded in the sky above the court than like men and women. At the very centre, four bodies lay on the ground, of which only one still seemed to have some life in it. It was probably the one who had emitted the scream a few minutes before, Tom thought. They were just Muggles though and almost dead.
More and more of the Death Eaters turned around from the spectacle to look at the small group that had just entered. Tom stared straight ahead, but in his mind, he was counting their numbers. They were many, more followers than he had had at the prime of his first reign, but now they seemed less magnificent to him. Their faces were hidden by masks, but beneath that he sensed fear.
They were more afraid than even the pathetic Muggles they had tortured and killed and the sight of them filled Tom with disgust.
It was hard to keep an impassive expression on his face. His scar hurt like never before, so much that he expected blood to run down his face. He wasn't cold anymore, but filled with burning lead, and something was pulling at him like a magnet. Power tingled at his fingertips, sharper than the fear around him and it watered his eyes and made the hairs all over his body stand.
The people around them parted like water and yet they weren't fast enough for Tom. He needed to see him now. He needed to lay his eyes on Voldemort before his body broke under the pull of his soul. Harry’s body could barely hold him now and he doubted that he would need the killing curse to leave it.
But Snape stopped shortly before they reached the centre of the court and he was forced to wait another unbearable moment before he saw him, taller than anyone else in the court and from the moment he lay his eyes on the white face framed by dark cloth, it was just the two of them. They were less than two people and yet not one, what they shared was too little to be shared and it hurt them and killed them at every second.
**
They walked closely behind Tom and Severus. Aberforth would have to reach the boy quickly when it happened and Albus would have to be there to defend him.
All eyes were on the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived, except for Voldemort who was looking at Snape, his face too inhuman to read. Did he suspect something? He stopped when there were still a few steps between them.
"Look closely, my friends," he said. He wasn't talking loudly, but the breathless silence carried his voice into the darkest corner of the court. "For here is the proof of our victory. But it is not what you think. The proof is not this boy they have called the Boy Who Lived, the one who is said to have defeated the Dark Lord. He is but a pawn, aided by luck and coincidence. The proof of our victory is that he is brought to me by a traitor who has sworn allegiance to my worst enemy.”
A hiss went through the crowd and wands were gripped waiting for the Dark Lord’s order. Snape remained pale and still as an alabaster statue.
"I have no illusions about your loyalty," Voldemort said coldly to the crowd. "All of you are bound by fear and greed and these are the strongest forces known to men. But for long years you feared others more than me. If today a man who knows better than all of you what I am capable of and what my enemies are capable of decides that he fears me more than them, isn't it the proof that I have finally won?" He made a sudden step towards Snape and Tom. "Isn't it, Severus?"
Snape bowed his head. "It is, my Lord."
Voldemort smiled. His blood-coloured eyes swept slowly over his assembled followers. They glided past Dumbledore without seeing him or his brother.
"But still, you maybe ask yourselves if my victory today is final. The Dark Lord has been defeated once, he may be defeated again, you think. And you are right, my friends. Every man can be defeated. But I am no longer a man." Voldemort's voice had risen with each word and now his voice was strong and bold, echoing within the court. "I have shed the bonds of humanity, I have surpassed the one thing that defeats all men, I have overcome death! I died, killed by my own spell that was thrown back at me. Yes, you hear right. It was not this child that undid me. It was my own magic, deflected by the protection his mother gave him. I vanquished me, destroyed everything but the very core of my being. But from the ashes I rose again, ten-times as powerful as before, no longer a man, no longer mortal. This boy did not defeat me “ he gave me true immortality."
Voldemort let silence reign after this last triumphant word. He had impressed every single person in his audience, even the ones he couldn't see. Dumbledore had never denied the fact that Voldemort was a powerful and inspiring leader. It was one of his most dangerous gifts.
"And since he gave me immortality, I will do him the honour of a fast and merciful death," Voldemort finished his speech. "Severus, release him."
Snape pointed his wand at Tom and said quietly: "Finite Incantatem." Then he stepped back from the boy.
Tom raised his head as if he had been released from a spell just now. Dumbledore couldn't see his face since he was standing a few steps behind him, but Voldemort didn't look suspicious.
No one looked at Snape anymore, but Dumbledore saw the man frown and grip his wand tightly. Snape had no idea what would happen now, but the headmaster hoped that he would catch on and help them as soon as they attacked.
Dumbledore observed the Death Eaters who were closest to them. To Voldemort's left he spotted Bellatrix Lestrange with a look of rapt delight on her face, her husband and his brother close behind her. Peter Pettigrew hovered in the shadows from where Voldemort had come, nursing his silver hand. Behind Snape stood Lucius Malfoy and the two men who had come with them. And surrounding them from behind stood dozens more of Voldemort's followers. Some of them would run for cover or flee as soon as there was any sign of trouble. Some were young and inexperienced, but most of them were a serious threat. And above them, all over the castle, Dementors hovered like vultures.
Voldemort still said nothing. His unblinking eyes rested on Tom. The silence stretched longer and longer. Some of the Death Eaters stole uncomfortable glances at each other. Snape looked deathly pale, as if he would lose his composure at any second.
He was reading Tom's mind and Dumbledore was sure he would know that this wasn't Harry. He thought he saw a spark of surprise and recognition on Voldemort's mask-like face. Suddenly Voldemort laughed and pointed his wand at the boy before him and said so softly that barely anyone heard it after the loud laughter: "Avada Kedavra."