1086 Clash of the Titans Ⅲ

On the train platform the villagers and students desperately fight for their lives against the Death Eaters. The barrage of spells continues as the round, balding Professor Horace Slughorn almost goes down with a loud oof. His still strawberry mustache had been cut in half in a rather unsymmetrical manner.

Beads of sweat drip down Professor Slughorn's face, but he does not have time to dab them away. Several golden buttons from his waistcoat have been lost in the tussle. His waistcoat is scorched from stray hexes and his robes are torn. "It is always good to see an old student, Tom."

"Yes, it has been a long time, Professor Slughorn has it not?" Voldemort rhetorically asked as his crimson serpent eyes coldly linger upon his former Head of House.

"You still have a chance to make things right, Tom," Slughorn panted. "Turn yourself into the Auror's."

"I have never properly thanked you for all the aid you so generously offered, Professor Slughorn," Voldemort smirked as his long spider-like fingers flexed around his wand as if in taunt. "I could not have achieved everything that I am today without your introductions into pureblood society."

The blood visibly drains from Professor Slughorn's face at Voldemort's words. "Nonsense, this is all your doing, Tom! I had no part in it!"

"Every now and again I still miss the Slug Club parties," Voldemort cruelly jeered. "I most fondly remember how my former Head of House was more than willing to explain to a student on how to split one's soul and hide it elsewhere."

"Nonsense, I did no such thing!" Professor Slughorn vehemently denied it with his gooseberry-colored eyes wildly blinking in contradiction to his badly veiled lie.

"Goodbye, Professor Slughorn," Voldemort said before casting the Killing Curse in the next breath, "Avada Kedavra!" An eerie green light spills forth from the tip of Voldemort's wand.

The green sparks spring forth plunging toward Professor Slughorn. Professor Slughorn's gooseberry-colored eyes fill with horror, dread, and a small measure of surprise and relief. A strange wind passes through as if a great shadow follows stealing the light from Professor Slughorn's eyes. The once vivid gooseberry-colored eyes become dull as Professor Slughorn topples limp to the ground. Dead.

Voldemort pensively turns back to the battlefield. His followers have a clear advantage, however, there are quite the interesting spectacles to observe. A trio of students with their backs towards each other is able to fight toe to toe with them.

One of them is a tall, thin young man with somewhat ruffled hair pulled back from his face. His hazel eyes blaze from behind silver spectacles. Yet more importantly, he moves like an experienced Auror causing the other two to fall short in comparison.

Voldemort approvingly memorize the appearance of the young man to have his followers openly recruit. His crimson serpent eyes move on to an even taller and slender youth. The youth is pale with raven-colored hair cut to frame his face. His onyx-colored eyes blaze with a fierce light, his features are firm, and stern with a familiar touch of pride.

Crimson serpent eyes narrow in pensive reflection as Voldemort's snake-slit nostrils flare greedily in recognition. Yes, this is the grandson of Reginald Prince, Severus Prince. How very fortuitous.

Voldemort paid very little mind to the third member of the party, a witch. Petite, slender witch with flaming red hair and emerald eyes. Her dress wear suggested her being a muggleborn. And is therefore of no further use or of interest to him.

Striding forward firmly with his prey in sight, Voldemort with ease parries stray spells. With one hand he gestures to his followers to make way for him. The Death Eaters quickly move to give their master a wide berth either retreating or advancing forward to make room.

Instinctively sensing danger James Potter turns around only to meet the crimson serpent eyes of Voldemort. The youth's hazel eyes visibly tremble with fear, anger, and utter hatred. Voldemort is quite surprised by the emotion but has no time to peer into the boy's mind and rip away all his secrets when the youth turned away.

James Potter hastily reached for Lily and Severus Prince grabbing them by the robes. Without any warning, the youth instantly apparated away. (Really, it was what common sense dictated. If one had the ability, one should flee if given the chance.)

"No!" Voldemort hissed in cold fury only for his prey to abruptly vanish.

Filled with cold fury, Voldemort loudly orders, "Kill them all. Take no prisoners!"

The Death Eaters renew their efforts as Voldemort moves forward to kill anyone in his path. However, before Voldemort can proceed with his violent plans a voice from behind him speaks to him in parseltongue. "Desist, cousin."

For a moment, Voldemort is genuinely shocked. He had been the only parselmouth that he knew of. (Naturally, he pointedly ignored the Gaunt family.) Yet his hand gripped his wand tighter as the milliseconds passed. There could be no other. A threat must be stifled in its cradle before it is ever grown.

Voldemort tilts his head to the side almost as if he were a serpent himself. Incredibly similar to her twin brother, Severus Prince, Rowan Prince has long raven hair pulled back and midnight indigo eyes. The largest difference between Severus and Rowan Prince is the delicate, golden spectacles on the bridge of her nose.

"Cousin?" Voldemort aloofly countered. "I have no kin."

"You cannot deny our shared blood, cousin," Rowan hissed back in parseltongue. "We are descendants of Salazar Slytherin, our unique gift is proof enough."

Voldemort straightened and immediately stepped forward as Rowan did not move an inch. Despite the ongoing battle around them, the Death Eaters cleverly the Dark Lord along. There is a wide gap surrounding Voldemort and Rowan. The Death Eaters are not foolish enough to steal the prey of their master.

The two of them stand still as Voldemort an exceptional Legilimens with ease, but violently peers into the mind of Rowan Prince. Privately, Voldemort is pleased by the ease of it all. One would think that Reginald Prince would have taught his grandchildren to be proficient Occlumens.

Yet Voldemort to his acute surprise abruptly finds himself pulled further inside. Abruptly he finds himself once again in the halls of Hogwarts. Students pass by him without notice including Professors. For a brief, vivid moment, Voldemort is transported to his youth. An eager eleven-year-old arriving at Hogwarts. How grand the castle had been at first sight! Yes, so very eager to learn about magic.

Pulling himself out of his memories, Voldemort moves forward down the winding steps toward the Slytherin chambers. He had been in many minds, but very few had ever created this type of memory-scape. It is typically not recommended unless the occlumens is proficient in creating a detailed memory-scape to hide their memories.

A rare hint of admiration appears in Voldemort's crimson serpent eyes. Voldemort arrives in front of the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Yet the door is firmly shut. He immediately raises his wand and attempts to blast the entrance open, but nothing occurs.

Sensing that the rules of reality must apply, Voldemort desists in his attempts to forcefully open the entrance open. He is familiar with the most common type of password that is most frequently used for the Slytherin common room. With an unhappy grimace, he begins to recite a long list of commonly used Slytherin entrance passwords.