46 39: Helping Heather Potter
Heather knew the portkey was coming. It still sucked. Her world spun. Her head rolled. And her landing was less than comfortable. She mentally cursed Mad-Eye Moody. Peg-legged bastard probably made the portkey extra rough to teach her a lesson on 'Constant Vigilance' or something.
Looking around, she knew where she was. They'd done a couple of dry runs of the plan. Having someone who could rip every little secret out of Barty Jnr's head really paid off. Heather probably knew what was waiting for her in the graveyard as well as Voldemort did.
She was still alone for now but she could hear footsteps getting closer. Hurrying, Heather activated her token and then acted as if she'd passed out from the portkey.
The token was essentially a magical beacon. It transmitted her location to the corresponding tokens in the coven's possession. It also broadcasted a signal to the WWO just like the spell the Twins used for Atlas' trial.
Hermione, Atlas, and Dumbledore had crafted the tokens specifically for their plan. Heather almost chuckled at the memory of Hermione finding out she would be working directly with Albus 'fricking' Dumbledore. She only just managed to stop herself. Right. She was supposed to be acting unconscious. Bleeeeehhhh…
"Take the girl. Hurry…"
Heather hid a wince. That voice was just about the worst thing she'd ever heard. It was at once infantile and gravelly, as if someone had taken a baby and thrown it through a woodchipper and it somehow survived to talk in that voice.
"Y-Yes, M-Master!"
She let herself fall limp as she was tied to a gravestone. It took all of her willpower to do so. She recognized that second voice as well. Wormtail the Rat… She mentally promised herself that he wouldn't leave this graveyard alive.
"Wake her. I grow tired of waiting," The first voice said.
Heather felt a jolt of electricity run through her veins. She knew the feeling of being hit with a Reviving Charm. It didn't do its job effectively but Heather pretended it did. She came awake with a start.
"Whew! What a rush! Did anyone get the scale count of the Dragon that hit me?"
Her 'captors' obviously weren't expecting her to wake up that way. Heather nearly snorted. They obviously didn't know her very well.
Heather took in her 'captors'. Wormtail was… Wormtail. No change there. Still a pathetic, sniveling rat of a man. She couldn't figure out why he was holding a baby bundle though…
"Just you, Wormtail?" Heather spat his name like a curse. "Doesn't seem like your style, kidnapping me like this."
Wormtail hissed, "Quiet, girl! You are in the presence of Lord Voldemort! Show respect and fear!"
"Where?" Heather gasped in 'shock'. Internally, she just smirked.
"Here, you pissant! He is right here!" Wormtail spat. The bundle in his arms stayed suspiciously silent.
"Uh… you sure? It just looks like a baby to me," Heather asked. "For shame, Wormtail. Kidnapping babies and teenage girls? Why, some might begin to question your strength of character."
Wormtail sputtered, "I-I-! Wha-!? I'm not a nonce!"
"Could have fooled me. The evidence doesn't seem to be in your favor there," Heather taunted.
"S-Say that to my face-…!"
"Silence…" The baby bundle finally spoke up in the cold, grating voice that set Heather's hair on end. "Turn me around, Wormtail."
Wormtail instantly clammed up. He complied with the order, his whole body shaking as he did. The thing inside the bundle came into view and Heather winced. It was not a pretty sight. A strange parody of an infant, gaunt and disfigured, looked back at Heather.
Despite herself, Heather couldn't keep the slight tremor from her voice, "V-Voldemort. You've certainly looked better. I think I preferred you as a face on the back of Quirrel's head."
Voldemort ignored her quip, his voice almost reverent, "Heather Potter. My fated enemy…"
"Heh, your fated enemy is a teenage girl? What, am I that scary?" Heather smirked.
"Your fear betrays you…"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Like I could ever be afraid of an aborted fetus."
Voldemort's face twisted into a cruel smirk, "Your attempts at diversion are… amusing. They shall not save you. Nothing will."
"Oh no! I'm ~soooo~ scared!" Heather mocked him.
"You should be…" Voldemort intoned menacingly.
Heather shivered as that grating voice tugged at her nerves. She knew the plan. She knew she wasn't alone. But right now, it certainly felt as if she was.
Faced with the monster that took her parents from her, the monster that still haunted some of her dreams… All Heather could do was bury her fear deep. She quipped, she taunted, and she bought herself as much time as she possibly could.
Heather snorted, "What, are you going to kill me or something? While I'm tied to a gravestone? How sporting of you."
"Don't worry, Potter. I won't kill you yet. Our final battle has not yet come…" Voldemort said.
"Then why am I here?!" Heather snapped, struggling against her bindings.
"To aid your greatest enemy against your will. To see me reborn. To herald my return…" Voldemort's words were heavy with gravitas.
"I knew this tournament was bullshit…" Heather grumbled. "Did you get Crouch to help you or something?"
Voldemort chuckled to himself, "In a way. You were entered against your will so you would be brought before me now. Everything ends with you and I, Heather Potter…"
"Ends with us?" Heather asked incredulously. "That's such bullshit. You're just a self-absorbed narcissist with a God complex!"
"God complex…? No, Heather, I am a god… I am… Immortal."
Heather rolled her eyes, "Gee, thanks, just go and demonstrate exactly what I mean right after I say it, why don't you?"
"You shall soon see the truth in my words," Voldemort assured. "The whole world will see the truth. I have conquered Death and Fate."
"Fate," Heather scoffed. "That's a new one."
"We were both bound by it, Heather…" Voldemort explained cryptically. "It is the cause of everything wrong in your life. The only difference between me and you is that I've taken Fate into my own hands and broken it."
"You know what else is the cause of everything wrong in my life? You," Heather shot back.
"Perhaps… But Fate was what directed me to you in the first place."
"What…?"
"There's a prophecy, Heather. One concerning the both of us. It is what forced my hand, forced me to deal with you as a mere babe…"
"Which you failed to do," Heather reminded smugly.
"And yet, you are still an orphan," Voldemort pointed out, equally as smug.
"… Uncool, man."
"I am the very definition of 'uncool'."
Heather snorted, "You're so full of your own shit."
"I am the greatest Dark Lord to ever live. I am full of nothing except greatness!" Voldemort snarled.
"You know, great people usually don't have to say that for it to be true…" Heather taunted.
"There is nothing wrong with confidence, Heather Potter. I am simply my own biggest fan. I wouldn't expect a child like you to understand," Voldemort said dismissively.
Heather looked at him queerly, "Your confidence manifests in weird ways, mate."
"Thank you."
"That… wasn't a compliment."
"And yet, I took it as such."
"What is even happening…?" Heather asked, mostly to herself.
She was almost starting to figure Voldemort out. One moment, he was menacing and threatening. The next, he was trading quips with her like a good sport. He was so full of himself and his own hype, so narcissistic and dramatic, that even her verbal counters were feeding his ego. All she had to do to buy herself time was get him talking about himself.
"Why am I here, Tom?" She asked leadingly. "Do you just want to gloat and talk about yourself?"
"Ah, Tom…" Voldemort sighed fondly. "It's been so long since someone called me by that name. I almost… miss it."
"Oh yeah?" Heather smirked. "Want me to call you Tom from now on?"
"It's a good name," Voldemort considered. "I could do without the last name but Tom by itself is plenty menacing. The Dark Lord… Tom…"
"If you say so…" Heather barely hid her disbelief. "So, Tom, why am I here? Just to watch?"
Voldemort — Tom — chuckled, "No, Heather. You shall be instrumental to my second rise. By your blood, I shall be reborn."
"And why here?" Heather quickly followed up before Voldemort could think of moving along with his ritual. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Graveyard. Spooky. Scary. But it's also a bit… I don't know… played out?"
"You think?" Voldemort asked, having grown entirely too comfortable with having Heather at his mercy. After an entire year with only Wormtail and Nagini for company, he was almost enjoying this conversation.
"Oh, yeah," Heather nodded. "So — what's that French word…? — So passe. Surely, you could have found somewhere better. A dark and creepy manor?"
"We have one of those up on the hill," Voldemort dismissed.
"A monument or something? You could have at least cleared out Stonehenge for the occasion," Heather suggested.
Voldemort hummed, "Hmm, that might have been fun…"
"That's what I'm saying!" Heather 'agreed', acting as if she was on his side. "But here? I was almost expecting a graveyard when I woke up!"
"Well, that won't do at all," Voldemort scoffed.
Heather nodded along, "Yep, never let 'em know your next move."
The corners of his lips twitched, "Quite… Still, this graveyard does hold some significance."
"Oh yeah? Tell me about it," Heather requested, openly playing into Voldemort's distraction now.
"U-Uh, Master…?" Wormtail tried to cut himself back into the conversation.
"Quiet, Wormtail! Can't you see we're talking here?" Voldemort snapped. "Now… where was I…?"
"You were explaining why this graveyard is important to you," Heather said 'helpfully'.
"Yes… It's quite simple, really. The grave you are tied to? It belongs to my father," Voldemort answered freely.
Heather gasped dramatically, "No!"
"Indeed," Voldemort nodded as if he didn't notice the sarcasm. "My wretched, loathsome Muggle father. His corpse lies buried beneath you. I shall make sure he is useful for once in his meaningless existence."
"And your mother? How did she hurt you?" Heather almost felt like a therapist.
Voldemort scoffed harshly, "My mother… She was even worse than my father. Barely even a squib, she was a waste of the little magic she had. She sunk so low that she had to trick a Muggle into loving her with potions."
"With them as my parents, it's a miracle that I have as much magic as I do. I must have always been destined for greatness. Though I suppose that goes to show that blood isn't everything…" Voldemort smirked.
"And how does that make you feel?" Heather asked. On the outside, she appeared somber and 'compassionate'. On the inside, Heather was laughing — practically cackling — like a madwoman.
Voldemort waved off the question, "Oh, I dealt with my trauma long ago. I hold no feelings toward my sperm donor and birth mother other than an intense, burning hatred. As it should be."
"M-Master…? S-Sir?" Wormtail tried to cut in again.
"What is it, Wormtail?" Voldemort demanded.
Wormtail stuttered, "I-I think she's t-trying to distract you…"
"Ah," Voldemort turned his attention back to Heather. "Is that true? Are you?"
"Yep," Heather answered unrepentantly.
Voldemort tutted, "What a shame… I was enjoying our little talk. Maybe I expected too much from you. We are fated to be equal rivals. What are equals without the ability to converse and understand each other?"
Heather grinned, "You would have done the same in my shoes, Tom."
Voldemort's lips quirked up with the barest hint of pride, entirely in his hypothetical actions, "Perhaps… No matter. We should move things along. I tire of this form. Wormtail. The ritual."
"O-Of course, My Lord."
Heather watched as Wormtail set the baby-bundled Voldemort down, conjuring a chair to prop him up in. She found herself staring uncomfortably at Voldemort in his beady little eyes. He had no choice but to stare back at her, unable to move or do much in this strange fetus-like form.
Heather hesitantly tried to break the awkward tension in the air between them, "So… You, uh… You come here often?"
"Unfortunately, yes. When I feel the need to brood or lord my lively living state over my father's grave," Voldemort allowed.
"… Cool…" Heather trailed off into silence.
Voldemort sighed, "Good help is so hard to find these days, isn't it?"
"I, uh, wouldn't know. My friends and family are plenty helpful. Between Atlas and Hermione, I have everything I need, really."
"Ah, yes, Atlas Black…" Voldemort nodded. "I've taken an interest in his rise this year. It's a shame I've only had newspapers to go off of. His mother was such a competent slave. I'm sure he'd be the same."
"Watch it," Heather growled. "He's mine."
"Ah? A sensitive spot, perhaps? I shall keep that in mind…"
Heather fumed but didn't respond. After a few more moments of silence, Wormtail made his reappearance. He pushed a giant metal cauldron, rolling it on its side. He was panting laboriously and looked to be one misstep from crushing himself with the thing. Eventually, he got it in place and pushed it back upright.
"It… is ready… Master," He panted.
"Then hurry," Voldemort commanded. "I wish to walk again."
"Y-Yes, Master."
Wormtail stumbled over to the chair he conjured just as the magic he used for it gave out. Voldemort's bundled body hit the ground with a thud. He didn't make a single sound on impact, just glaring at his servant.
"You will be punished for that indignity, Wormtail," Voldemort hissed.
Wormtail paled more than could have possibly been healthy, "A-Apologies, my Master…"
Wormtail scooped up the bundle of Voldemort. He was still catching his breath as he made his way back to the cauldron and gingerly set his lord inside.
Voldemort's voice echoed from the cauldron in a way that was almost comical, "You may start, Wormtail. Do not disappoint me again…"
Wormtail jumped slightly at the echo, as timid and skittish as ever. Heather thought it was only fitting for a rat like him. Still, he nervously fingered his wand and began the ritual.
"Bone of the father, unwillingly given, you will renew your son," Wormtail chanted, barely suppressing his stutter.
The ground beneath Heather rumbled and split. The grave of Tom Riddle Snr was unearthed and desecrated. Bone flew into the air to crumble to dust. The dust then went into the cauldron and the whole mixture began to bubble with Voldemort inside.
Right, this was it. Heather steeled herself inside. They knew Voldemort needed her blood for the ritual. It would be 'forcibly taken' from her. She just needed to not panic. In fact… if she was letting Wormtail take it, was it still 'forcibly taken'?
She knew everything else should have been in place. Heather just had to wait for the perfect moment. Unfortunately, they couldn't enact their own ritual while Voldemort was still in his helpless form. They needed him to summon his Death Eaters to power it. Which meant Heather was in for a fight once Voldemort got his body back.
Thankfully, she would have some backup for that. She could feel Atlas and Bella's magic through the token. Thrumming like an engine, ready to be revved, and close. They'd be there in seconds when she called. The wards should go up soon after.
The prophecy said Voldemort had to die at her hand. She just hoped Fate wouldn't mind if she had a little help. Or if she just straight up didn't kill him…
What had Atlas called it? Tartarus…? That seemed as good a final resting place for Voldemort as any.
Wormtail whimpered, "Flesh… of the servant… Willingly given… You will revive your master…"
He stood over the cauldron. A silver dagger raised into the air. Wormtail's eyes squeezed shut. He let his arm fall. Heather had to turn away as Wormtail mutilated his own hand, chopping it clean off to fall into the bubbling mixture. The piercing screech he let out still stabbed into her ears.
"Didn't think you had it in you, Wormtail," Heather quipped to hide her nausea. "You know, you probably could've done with just a finger or something, right? I mean, props for the commitment, I guess."
Wormtail's sobs intensified at her harsh and unwelcome logic. Still, he stumbled over to her. He reached out with his fresh stump and stopped. With another body-wracking sob, he switched hands, aiming for her arm.
Heather was restrained in a way that her arm wasn't easily accessible to Wormtail's newly crippled state. He paused again.
"D-Do you mind giving me your arm, Potter…?" Wormtail said in stuttering sobs.
"Oh, yeah, go for it," Heather shifted slightly.
Wormtail resumed the ritual's chant, "Blood of the enemy… Forcibly taken… You will resurrect your foe."
Heather braced herself but the sensations still shocked her. Sharpened silver split skin. A line of heat was drawn into her flesh. She gasped. Her wound burned deep. Her mind jumped, trying to shy away from the pain. Still, she kept consent in her mind out of pure spite.
Wormtail walked away with a vial of her blood. He never noticed that it was no longer 'forcibly taken'. He dumped the last ingredient into the mixture and stepped back.
Almost instantly, the cauldron erupted into a boil. Sparks of magic flew through the air, so blue they looked poisonous. Sickly green smoke spiraled out. It formed skulls and bones and sickles as if ill portents of the future. Death itself rebelled and was rewritten.
A silhouette pierced the smoke, standing erect from within the cauldron. Too tall and too thin, just the shape of the figure was unnatural. The magic in the air seemed to flee its presence. As the smoke cleared, skin wrapped too tightly around bone and the Dark Lord was reborn in the flesh.
"Robe me…" Voldemort rasped.
Despite his injuries, Wormtail hurried to obey. Heather watched, in fear, awe, and disgust all at once.
Voldemort was unnatural, an affront to the world. That's how he looked and that's how he felt. Heather's instincts — just about the first thing she trusted when it came to magic — screamed at her.
"Strike it down! Run away! Burn it! Hide!" Something primal screeched inside her mind, flipping back and forth as quickly as her heartbeat.
Once dressed, Voldemort turned his attention to Heather. He walked slowly, dramatically, toward her. Cold eyes bore into her soul.
The magic pouring off him felt so wrong. Nothing like when Dumbledore was angry. Nothing like Atlas as he always was.
Dumbledore was a force of nature, intense and dangerous if you got too close. He was a hurricane, almost uncaring of the havoc and chaos that he brought. But Heather knew she could stay safe by standing in the eye of the storm.
Atlas was a cold, windy night. Dark, chilling, but comforting in the most captivating way. Heather knew she could curl up with him and a cup of tea or cocoa and just enjoy the stars that peeked through his darkness.
Voldemort was wrong. He was a force of un-nature if that was even possible. He was the dregs that seeped through the cracks of reality and finally pooled into a twisted pool of pure, demented sewage. He was cruelty manifest. He was an anomaly. He only cared about himself, enough to even rebel against reality. Death, Fate, and Magic cried and cringed in his presence. Voldemort defied the natural order to stand before Heather.
"Ah," He put on an overly dramatic sigh. "It does feel good to have a body again. Good enough that I'm almost tempted to let you leave without doing anything more, Heather Potter…"
"Y-Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," Heather agreed, trying to suppress the involuntary quiver of revulsion in her voice.
Voldemort smirked, cruel and darkly amused, "Almost. Wormtail. My wand and your arm."
"Y-Yes, my Master," Wormtail obeyed. He stuttered and sobbed and asked, "M-May… I have a hand…?"
Heather couldn't help but snort at the unintended pun. It helped kill some of the unnatural anxiety she felt around Voldemort.
Voldemort rolled his eyes and hummed, "Hmm… Crucio."
Wormtail's screams were pretty effective at killing any humor Heather might have been relying on like a crutch. He fell to the ground, writhing and wriggling. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Every ounce of pain was wrung from his body like a rag. Voldemort watched emotionlessly as his servant just about tore his hair out with his good hand, trying to get the pain to stop.
Heather winced and mumbled, "Merlin…"
Still holding his torture curse, Voldemort turned back to Heather with another smirk, "How does it feel to witness true power, Heather Potter?"
"Like I shouldn't have even tried to talk to you. You're a psychopath," Heather replied.
"Oh? How kind of you."
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"Why ever not? Psychopaths are efficient. They're ambitious. They will do anything to make sure their goals are accomplished," Voldemort elaborated matter-of-factly.
"They're also anti-social detriments to society!" Heather yelled, struggling against her restraints. She couldn't believe she was trying to help Wormtail of all people.
Voldemort sneered, "Society bows to men like me."
Still, he released his curse. Wormtail went limp. His chest heaved. He couldn't even sob through the pain.
Contrary to popular belief, the Cruciatus Curse wasn't like being set on fire. It was pure pain, pulled from every single nerve in your body. It was like being dunked in ice-cold water, the shock jolting your whole body and stretching into infinity. It was agony, overwhelming in a way you could still fully process. It was torture and torment. It was pure, unimaginable suffering.
"You're a monster," Heather snarled.
"Oh? Are you volunteering to take his place?" Voldemort asked.
Heather clammed up real quickly. She hated how nonchalant and calm his voice was most of all. As if he'd just asked what was for dinner instead of asking if Heather would volunteer to suffer until she sobbed and screamed. Any understanding she might have built for Voldemort during their conversation before the ritual died a grisly, unceremonious death.
Voldemort nodded as if he'd made some kind of point, "Just as I thought…"
He turned back to his struggling servant, "Get up, Wormtail. Your dedication shall be rewarded. And then I will summon my other servants and we shall ask them why they were less loyal than a rat."
Wormtail barely managed to climb to his feet. He twitched with each movement. His body didn't respond as it should have. And yet, he was still too scared to disobey his master. He stood, clutching his severed stump and spasming with each gust of wind that grazed his skin like licking flames.
Voldemort waved his wand casually. Wormtail gasped and went stiff. Liquid silver metal poured from his stump. It flowed into shape, forming an exact replica of the hand he'd lost before solidifying. Cautiously, Wormtail flexed his hand, watching it move as it should.
"T-Thank you, M-Master…" He stuttered.
Voldemort didn't reply, instead just holding out his hand, "Your arm, Wormtail. Your mark."
He seized the offered arm as Wormtail complied. Voldemort jabbed his wand into the mark there, twisting it viciously as if he was truly stabbing into Wormtail's flesh. Wormtail tensed as if he were struck by lightning.
Nothing seemed to happen for a long moment. Then there was the pop of apparition. Then another. And another. The graveyard rapidly filled with dark figures, cloaked in black robes with gleaming silver masks over their faces. As one, they bowed when they appeared.
Voldemort didn't even wait for all of his Death Eaters to arrive before he began to speak, "I find myself disappointed. Vexed. Filled with rage and irritation. To have such… faithless… followers.
"The idea that any of you would truly believe I died that night is preposterous. You are my servants, my marked followers, my Death Eaters… And yet, none of you looked for me. Only two of your number worked to ensure my return.
"No, you were content to sit in your ivory towers. On one hand, I applaud your ability to adapt and reintegrate yourself with the sheep. On the other, I am… deeply offended.
"You were weak! You were unfaithful! You believed in Death more than in your Lord! You begged off punishment, thinking I would never return… Yet, here I stand before you… Reborn!
"MacNair… You couldn't put your fascination with rituals to good use? You didn't think to build me a new body yourself? Crucio…"
One of the Death Eaters fell to the torture curse. He writhed and screamed for a few moments until Voldemort released him and moved along.
"Avery… I've always thought you were a coward. How did you escape Azkaban, hmm? Imperius? Cooperation? Bribery? In the end, I do not care. Crucio…"
Another Death Eater fell. His screams tore through the graveyard. Voldemort went on like that, moving down the line of Death Eaters with their heads bowed. None dared to move. None dared to oppose their lord. They could only accept their punishment and beg for forgiveness.
In the background, Heather used Voldemort's distraction to her advantage. She wiggled against her restraints. Her injured arm burned as she moved. It slipped free.
She focused on her core, directing magic into her hand. She remembered Atlas' lessons and her own practice with Wandless Magic. Her mind calmed. Her breathing slowed. Her concentration sharpened.
She directed talent into intuition, intuition into will, and will into reality. Pure instinct, pure intent, Heather's magical core pulsed. The restraints loosened.
"The worst among you," Voldemort monologued. "Are the ones who did not even live to see my return. Yaxley… Parkinson… Flint… Malfoy… Their loss is unfortunate. Especially the Malfoy fortune and my path to the Black fortune as well. But they will not be missed.
"Take this as a lesson. Death and failure will result in you being forgotten. Your name will not be remembered. Your House will fall to the enemy. Your very way of life will die off. I am your only choice. Your only hope. I, who has conquered Death, shall lead you to eternity…"
More Death Eaters had stopped appearing some time ago and Voldemort was left wondering, "Hmm, we still seem to be missing some of my servants… Where is Severus, my most loyal spy? Where is Barty, the instigator of my triumphant return?"
Heather slipped a hand into her pocket. Her thumb ran over the token found there. It pulsed with her magic. Then it pulsed again as if in reply.
She let herself drop from the statue-like grave she'd been restrained to. The instant she hit the ground, she was already moving. Her muscles coiled and flexed. She pushed off from the ground. Like a whip, she sprang into action.
Faster than anyone could react, she bowled Wormtail over and swiped her wand off him. She rolled to her feet and put some distance between her and her enemies. One or two of the Death Eaters got spells off at her. A shield had already snapped into place behind her to tank them.
"Stop," Voldemort drawled, almost lazily. "It seems our guest of honor has escaped. Impressive. But no matter. I intended to duel you anyway. Have you anything to say for yourself before you die at my hand, Heather Potter?"
Heather turned and stood her ground, smirking at the Dark Lord, "Yeah. What beats a Dark Lord? Black magic…"
IIIII
It took every ounce of willpower I had to stay my hand for so long. Heather was less than 100 meters from us. And we had to stay hidden — out of sight and unable to help. She was being held captive by a Dark Lord who was using her blood to be reborn and we couldn't do anything about it yet.
Bella held me tight for support. I supported her in turn. The Dark Mark on her arm burned. Through gritted teeth, she bore the Voldemort's call.
I'd put more than a few hours of research into getting rid of the Mark. The moment it was possible, I'd be replacing it with a mark of my own. Bella had already chosen a design of broken chains. For the time being though, Bella thought it poetic that the Dark Mark's call would summon Voldemort's doom.
Together, we watched the broadcast on my WWO parchment. I was all set to leap in and strangle Heather when she took up a taunting conversation with Voldemort. We didn't need her to buy that much time!
The thread beneath the broadcast was going wild. Paradoxically, it helped me keep calm. It reminded me that Heather wasn't alone. We were here, waiting for her signal, and the entirety of Hogwarts was watching.
The reactions in the thread were expectedly extreme. I couldn't imagine how it felt to be an outside observer for this event. Even with knowing the plan and that this was all a coordinated trap, I was beyond tense. Thankfully, Daphne and Gabrielle had taken to managing our reveal on the WWO.
I could hear my heart beating in my ears. Righteous rage and protectiveness swelled and swelled. Worry was close behind. I was itching to spring the trap early. To get to Heather's side.
My stomach was in knots. My nerves were frayed. My throat was dry as bone. Just swallowing was a task in itself. My emotions ran riot through my mind. And still, I had to keep a tight lid on them so they didn't affect my magic and give the game away to Voldemort.
I was a dense, coiled ball of magic. My instincts rebelled against the necessary wait. I was oh-so ready to snap at Voldemort and bite into him like a whip.
My focus was sharp and I knew soon enough I would cut everyone who threatened Heather into tiny pieces. Any second, she would give the signal. Any second, I would be able to vent my tension in an intensely satisfying and productive fashion.
The token I held pulsed in my hand. I waited. Heather slipped free from her restraints. I waited. She grabbed her wand and readied herself. I waited.
"What beats a Dark Lord? Black magic…"
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
With a crack and a twist, Bella answered the call she'd been resisting. My hand on her shoulder pulled me along with her. Our wands were out and ready.
We appeared next to Heather. Spells were flying before anyone but Voldemort could react. Even his reaction was a touch slow. He spun out of the way as I sent an explosive hex his way. All of my anger, all of my anxiety, was pumped into the spell.
The spell exploded on a Death Eater behind Voldemort. The masked figure was instantly reduced to nothing but bloody mist. Bella cut another almost in half with a slash of her wand. The only sound that escaped her target was a wet, choking gurgle.
"Ah, Atlas Black. And Bellatrix, my dear. I wasn't expecting company… Still, I suppose I can make an exception for such competence so long as you swear to serve me-…" Voldemort tried to monologue.
A Blasting Curse slammed into him. His speech was cut short. I was ashamed I let him say even that much.
Voldemort shielded against the spell in time. He was still sent flying ass over teakettle. His magic, twisted and corrupt as it was, caught him in mid-air and set him down gently.
"Such ruthlessness… Such power… Yes, how wonderful~… You shall make a good slave when I break you, Atlas Black…" Voldemort menaced, his smile morphing with malice and cruelty.
"As if, you noseless bastard!" Heather shouted, adding her own spell to my assault.
Her Cutting Curse sliced deep into Voldemort's shield. As if the shield was physically there, a sharp gash was opened in the magical aegis. The Dark Lord actually blinked in surprise at the damage.
His shield was slow to heal. Bella followed up with a Blood-Boiler that Voldemort was forced to sidestep.
Bella snarled like an animal, "Touch my baby boy and I will make your death slow and gruesome! I will string you up by your entrails! I will rip out your heart and shove it so far up your ass it settles back into place! I will slaughter you like a fucking pig!"
Voldemort sighed fondly, "Ah, Bellatrix~ How I've missed you. It's such a pity you're no longer mine to command…"
Only then did the Death Eaters begin to respond to our ambush. Some scrambled for cover. Others formed up on each other to mount coordinated counter-attacks. Others still raised their wands and charged in head first.
Heather quickly turned into a whirl of stunners. She was quick as a whip and as accurate as a marksman. She overpowered the Hell out of every spell. The charging Death Eaters were sent flying, their feet literally leaving the ground from the force of her stunners.
She only used one spell because that was all she needed. The only time she used something else was when she took Wormtail's head clean off his shoulders with a Blasting Curse.
Unlike Heather, I made sure to shake things up and keep our opponents guessing. My wand twirled and flicked. Magic flowed through me like a raging river. I found myself snarling just like Bella as I cast.
A pitfall opened up beneath one Death Eater. Dirt turned into boiling water around them. Another was crushed by the air itself as I turned up the pressure. A simple banisher sent a Death Eater into and through a gravestone.
Lightning flashed, streaking across the battlefield to illuminate skeletons within still-living bodies. Wind roared and ripped clothes and skin to pieces. Chunks of ice in June pelted the hiding Death Eaters like a literal hail of bullets. I whipped the world into a fury around the Death Eaters.
Bella's varied curses were even more vicious. One fell to their knees as their organs tore them apart from the inside in an attempt to escape. Moisture was ripped straight from another's flesh and bones. A Death Eater found himself getting very acquainted with his own crotch, paralyzed and brain dead in an instant as his spine disappeared and his body couldn't stay upright anymore.
Through it all, Voldemort stood back and laughed manically, "Yes~! Yes~! Cut loose! Let your magic fly! Prove my greatness with worthy challengers!"
One of the coordinated groups of Death Eaters tried to flank me. I took the initiative to prevent it. Within seconds, I was within their ranks. My wand might as well have been a sword with how liberally I used the Cutting Curse.
Pushing the limits of physical magic, none of them could keep up. My arm blurred with every slash. Limbs were removed wholesale. I chopped. I cut. I split flesh and spilled blood. And still, I did my best to keep them mostly alive.
The world was sharp with clarity. The night was brighter than it should have been. As if the darkness had retreated into my magical core.
I was so enraged that I went right the way back around to focus and calm. My heart wasn't racing anymore. It beat a steady rhythm in my chest.
Britain's Pure-Blood population would take a significant hit after tonight, I mused. I realized I was likely orphaning some of my students. There was nothing I could do about that realization. They were a threat to me, to society, and most importantly… They were threats to Heather.
I didn't know how many Death Eaters there were. 100? More? Surely, not more than 300. Let's put it at an even 225…
Regardless, there were now much less in any condition to continue fighting. Some were dead. Most were grievously injured.
Blood painted the grass red. The graves beneath were watered generously. Gore and viscera splattered against the gravestones like abstract art.
The portion of Death Eaters who charged in like idiots were taken care of quickly. Heather and Bella were working on their own little coordinated groups. Like I had, they carved through the groups like butter. Heather did so faster than Bella, to my surprise.
The Death Eaters in cover were mostly intact. They cast AKs like candy at the three of us. Thankfully, training in Constant Vigilance paid off. I hated that I would have to tell the old paranoid bastard Mad-Eye that he was right. Hell, I might even have to… thank him!
Still, it seemed Voldemort was starting to realize that the situation was quickly turning against him. He held himself dramatically, reviving some of his stunned followers with the wave of his wand. Then he walked back into the fray as if he had all the time in the world.
I took a moment to focus and center myself. With a sweeping motion, I moved to cut off the Death Eaters in cover. A long semi-circle wall rose from the dirt between us and them.
Voldemort paid it no mind. So I took the time to enchant my wall with traps, biting the thumb of my off-hand until I tasted blood from extra oomph and staying power.
Almost immediately, the traps paid off. A bloodcurdling scream sounded from the other side of the wall. I guess they found the air-breathing eels I embedded in my fortification. Moray Eels, at that. Those teeth were like glass shards and the second jaw within the first would be sure to traumatize anyone.
Still, Voldemort ignored the struggle of his followers. He wouldn't lift a finger to help his 'lessers'. Not when Heather, Bella, and I were in front of him.
He lifted his wand. The magic in the air stuttered and disappeared as if sucked in by a sudden black hole. Voldemort almost seemed to swell with power.
Muttering under his breath, the Dark Lord brought his wand down upon the world. A wave of sickly green light burst forth from him. It washed over the graveyard, sinking into the graves there. Reality screeched in protest.
The ground trembled. The grass split. Graves were unearthed. Dead hands clawed their way into the air. They pulled deathly pale bodies behind them. An abominable army rose from below.
"Shit…" I cursed to myself.
A cold hand reached for my foot. I severed it with a slash of my wand. The body it was once connected to didn't stop coming. Drawing in magic with a breath, I put my wand to my lips and blew, lighting the thing ablaze.
Voldemort's army of Inferni didn't discriminate between friend and foe. Heather, Bella, and I found ourselves fending them off just like the remaining Death Eaters on this side of the wall. Voldemort ignored the screams and cries of his followers.
The undead corpses feasted on living flesh. The Death Eaters were — ironically — eaten by the dead. The Dark Lord watched his servants fall like it was some kind of visceral play for his amusement. Sadistic glee shined in his dark, beady eyes.
"Cover me!" I called.
Heather, Bella, and I naturally backed toward each other, fighting along the way. Once together, I left the defense to them for a few precious moments. Sparks flashed in my magical core. A small, contained portion of my magic caught fire.
Realizing her stunners did nothing, Heather quickly switched to Blasting Curses and explosive hexes. Even as limbs exploded off the Inferni, they kept coming. They crawled, they limped, they even wiggled like some cruel parody of a snake when they were reduced to merely torsos and heads.
Back to back to back, I felt Bella's breath stutter in her chest. I could feel her concentration, feel the magic she wielded digging deep into reality to call forth something dangerous. Fiend Fire, barely enough for a torch, poured from the tip of her wand.
Her body was stiff, her muscles tensed as she fought to control even this minute example of the legendary flames. The sounds of Hell, demonic and ghastly, echoed from the Fiend Fire with every crackle and pop of the flickering flames.
It formed a cat's paw on the end of her wand. Wickedly sharp claws flickered in and out of existence. Bella swiped and swiped, carving through undead flesh like it was air. Blood and bone alike burned, consumed by Fiend Fire.
The tide of Inferni slowed but didn't stop. Some hung just out of Bella's reach. Even more reinforcements came from all around. Every grave in the graveyard had been overturned, their residents rudely evicted and drafted.
I stoked the fire in my magical core. It was contained and compressed into a tight ball. I began to spin the ball with my will. Faster. Tighter. Over my head, my wand followed the same path as my will.
With a strained roar, I let the fire fly free. It streamed from my wand, not unlike Fiend Fire. But my flames were much, much easier to control. I wouldn't dare try this spell with Fiend Fire.
Clouds of fire formed above our heads. They spun themselves outward into a great ring of fire. Crimson and gold descended upon the world. They reached down from the heavens to engulf everything around us.
Round and round, the flames whirled. A tornado. A hurricane. A firestorm. The air itself smoldered and smoked. Scorching heat consumed everything it could reach. Even as the caster, I felt my skin begin to tingle and burn.
Thankfully, Heather was quick to cast Flame Freezing Charms on all three of us. Bella fought her Fiend Fire back into submission. It winked out without fanfare.
Flames so thick they might as well have been solid surrounded us. They cloaked us from view. We took a second to catch our breath. I let my Firestorm Spell rage and rampage until I was sure the Inferni were nothing but ash. Once I let it go, the storm naturally began to disappear as it vented pressure.
Before it could fully disappear, a shadow appeared within them. The figure walked forward until Voldemort emerged from the flames. Drama Queen… I thought. Fuck if it didn't look wicked though…
Voldemort's grin was wide and manic, "Good! Good! You can deal with cannon fodder. Now, let's test how you fare against a single opponent. Witness me, Heather Potter, Atlas Black! Witness my glory! I am Lord Voldemort! Hahahahaha~!"
My firestorm faded during Voldemort's insane, narcissistic declaration. The rest of his Death Eaters lurked on the edges of it. They menaced and threatened, keeping me and Heather from devoting all of our attention to Voldemort alone.
Bella's hand fell lightly on my arm, "Don't worry about them, baby. Momma will take care of the chaff."
"Are you sure?" I worried. "There have to be more than 100 still left…"
Bella smirked at me, "As if I would ever disappoint my baby boy again."
She turned away and waved her wand. Sharp, quick, and without pause, her wand movements made her look like an orchestra conductor.
Cracks rang out through the graveyard. Stone rumbled and ground against stone. Angels came to life. A robed scythe-wielding figure like Death joined them. The statues scattered around the graves moved as one.
Bella directed them to do her will and bidding. Death Eaters panicked, scattered, or tried to fight back. Bella's golems shrugged off spellfire like it was water. Soon enough, Bella leaped back into the fray, an army of her own at her beck and call.
"She really is one of a kind…" Voldemort watched with impressed eyes.
I found myself absently agreeing, "Yep, that's Mommy Bella for you."
Bella's squeal could have been heard from Hogwarts, "Eeeeeiiiiiiii~! Atlas called me Mommy~!"
Laughter escaped my lips as I turned to Heather, "Heh… Ready?"
Heather grinned like a true combat junkie, "C'mon, Teach, let's give 'em what for!"
I snorted, "'What for'?"
Her face flushed, "Shut up…"
Despite our situation, I couldn't help but tease her, "Alright, Madam Potter~."
Heather glared but I could see the amusement behind her eyes, "I'll get you for that…"
"We have to get out of here first," I reminded, bringing her focus back to the elephant in the room.
Voldemort just watched us, smirking as if we weren't a threat to him at all. Heather's expression hardened. We both needed the slight break but I was right. There was more work to do.
Tense magical intent built up like pressure within Heather. She fingered her wand but didn't move otherwise. Her eyes were locked on Voldemort and his on her. Two aspects of Fate stared each other down, the string of Prophecy practically visible between them.
I bit my thumb again to renew the wound there, wincing slightly at the sting. A few drops of my blood dripped onto my wand. They instantly and unnaturally seeped into the wood. A temporary boost. But that was all I needed.
Fate deemed this a battle between Voldemort and Heather. It said she alone could defeat him. No one else could interfere. My System and I had other ideas. I'd already proven able to interfere, removing Voldemort's Horcrux from Heather and undoubtedly messing with the fated final confrontation between the two of them.
I didn't know why I seemed able to break Fate. And honestly, I didn't quite care at the moment. All that mattered was that I could. That I would. For my family, for any of my girls, for Heather, I was going to tell Fate to stuff it. Voldemort wouldn't know what hit him.
By some unseen signal, Heather suddenly sprang into motion, "Expelli-…!"
Voldemort mirrored her, "Avada Keda-…!"
I beat them both to the punch, interrupting their spells before they could finish casting, "Coel Disrumpo!"
The Heavens were rent asunder. Space split before my wand. The weave of reality ripped for the briefest of moments. The clap of noise that followed was a deafening cacophony as reality reasserted itself. The damage was already done.
Voldemort's limbs split and shattered, severed from his body. His arms fell from his sides. His legs flopped forward at the waist. There was no blood, no gore. Space itself had separated at his shoulders and waist, cleanly slicing through the matter there.
The Dark Lord was left as a Dark Nugget, just a torso and head. He fell to the ground, somehow balancing perfectly there on his new stumps. Everyone in the graveyard froze. Struggling minds tried and failed to process the effect of my spell.
The spell itself was something I was developing as part of my Charms and Transfiguration Masteries. It was a spatial spell, one most closely related to Apparition, funnily enough.
It played heavily on the weave — the fabric — of space and time. It wasn't complete, still only at the first step. But that first step was already devastatingly effective.
Wizards and Witches played with the fabric of reality often, bending it to their will. Apparition was the most obvious example. It folded reality, momentarily connecting two points in space so the caster could 'step' through.
Like the metaphor of an ant on a string from "A Wrinkle in Time". Or the classic metaphor used to explain wormholes of making a hole in a folded piece of paper and opening it back up.
Ripping the fabric of reality was more difficult but still possible. The boost from Blood Magic plus half of my remaining reserves of magical power was enough to power my spell.
Reality was anything but fragile. It could take a bit of ripping and folding, especially on the minuscule, minuscule scale of an individual Wizard on an individual planet. The universe was unfathomably massive. It also had a tendency to self-correct for things that didn't even count as rounding errors like Apparition or my spell.
Eventually, Voldemort recovered enough of his senses to release his sudden rage, "What have you done, boy?! I shall have your head! I shall have your soul! How dare you step between Prophecy and Fate!?! No, how is this even possible?!"
Heather gaped at her nemesis and then at me before breaking out into laughter, "Ahahahahahah~! Atlas, I could kiss you!"
I was panting slightly from exertion as I replied, "You're… welcome to. But we're not done yet. Lord Torso-mort here won't give us any more problems but we've still got the rest of the chaff to deal with."
Beaming as bright as I'd ever seen her smile, Heather turned to the rest of the Death Eaters with her wand raised and ready, "Alright, boys~ How about you all make this easy for us, yeah~?"
Her words seemed to shock the Death Eaters out of their shock. Some raised their wands. A few dropped them then and there and raised their hands into the air in surrender. I made a special note of them. The others tried to apparate out and immediately ran face-first into our wards.
Heather dropped several Death Eaters with stunners before they could react. They tried to fight back but were still in a daze from their master's thorough defeat. Then Bella hit them with her army of gravestone golems.
They fell quickly after that, either to stunners or to concussions from living stone. All the while, Voldemort ranted incoherently in the background. I let the girls take care of the Death Eaters, standing back to recover my reserves.
"-This isn't right! It isn't fair! There was a prophecy! How?! How?! How?! How?!" Voldemort's rambles became more and more petulant.
"I know about the prophecy," I said, unceremoniously dropping myself into a sitting position beside Voldemort. "Hell, I probably know more of it than you do."
"Impossible!" Voldemort denied the idea. "You should not have been able to interfere! Ah, I know! This must not be the end!"
"No, I'm pretty sure this is the end for you, Tom," I plainly stated. "As for interfering, I already had before any of this happened."
"What… do you mean…?" Voldemort asked with fear of all things shining through the Dark Lord's voice.
I hummed to myself in consideration for a moment, "Hmm… Did you know one of your Horcruxes was inside Heather's scar?"
"Wha-! You know?!" He hissed.
I nodded, "I know. Albus knows. Everyone knows, Tom. But don't worry. I've already removed and destroyed that Horcrux from Heather. That's how I originally interfered."
"I… see…" Voldemort muttered before recovering his rage. "No matter! I have more! You shall never kill me! Lord Voldemort is immortal! This is merely a temporary setback!"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "We've got a plan to deal with those too. This really is the end for you, Tom."
"N-No-…" He went silent, half in denial and half in realization.
"If it helps, I could tell you the whole prophecy. Not that it matters anymore… but I thought you might want to know before we take care of you once and for all," I didn't know if I was taunting him or comforting him at this point.
Voldemort tried to act like he didn't care. His torso moved as if he was trying to wave a hand he didn't have anymore. He scowled when that motion failed.
"Do as you will, boy."
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'"
"Yes, I heard that much. Get to the point!" Voldemort snapped, interrupting me.
I suppressed a smirk and continued, "'-And the Dark Lord will mark her as his equal, but she will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'"
"But that's-…" Voldemort sputtered. "'Mark her as his equal'…? 'Neither can live while the other survives'…? I could have just left the little brat alone!?"
"Yep, Fate and Prophecy are bullshit like that," I smirked.
Voldemort looked even more defeated than when he was rendered into a torso nugget, "I had everything. Fear. Awe. Power. Immortality. Victory was within my grasp…"
I wasn't above kicking him while he was down, "And you threw it all away for an incomplete prophecy from a drunk."
The Dark Torso was silent for a few long moments, "… What will you do with me?"
I slapped him on the stump of his shoulder for 'comfort', letting a dark grin spread across my face, "Well, I'm hoping what's left of the prophecy will make Heather effectively immortal. She won't die by your hand and you won't die from hers. So don't worry, Tom. We won't kill you."
A small light of hope bloomed in his eyes, "Is that so…? Yes, that seems prudent. We should all go our separate ways and leave it at that. Nobody has to lose here…"
I chuckled, "Oh, no, Tommy boy. We're not letting you off like that. You'll get your immortality. But you won't get to enjoy it. Not one bit. I've made dead sure of that."
"What do you mean-…?" Voldemort somehow managed to pale despite his abomination of a body.
As if floating on air, Heather skipped over to us and said in a singsong voice, "All done, Teach~! Bella's Angels are gathering the bodies up. We can start bleeding them whenever! Should we call the rest of the coven now?"
I stood and stretched, "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. They're probably watching anyway. Shouldn't take long."
"W-Wait! You must tell me what you plan to do with me!" Voldemort protested.
Heather considered it for a moment before smirking, "Hmmm… Nah."
"I will not sit here and take this!" Voldemort began to struggle, his task made more difficult by his current state. "I am not beaten! I can't be! I am immortal! I am all-powerful! I am Lord Voldemort!"
"Don't get any bright ideas, Tommy boy," I warned.
"You don't command me, boy," Voldemort sneered. "No one does! I shall escape! I shall recover! And I shall have my revenge!"
His struggles increased. His body — just the torso, neck, and head that was left of it — writhed like a worm. His twisted, unnatural magic swelled with panic. The world around us seemed to almost hiss and reject him entirely. He suddenly coughed up blood — Heather's 'willingly given' blood.
Still, I wasn't taking any more chances with him. All it took to bring the Dark Lord so low again was a foot against his back. And then, I simply… pushed.
"I-I-oof!" He tried for another dramatic declaration of intent and was immediately cut off.
The Dark Lord Voldemort fell flat on his face and was stuck like that. His body began to smoke ever-so-slightly. Heather's blood slowly seeped out of his every pore.
"Looks like we're on a time limit now," I absently mused, fingering the token in my pocket. It pulsed twice in reply.
"Oh shit…" Heather cringed. "Ewwww…"
Bella just giggled, "Hehehe~! Looks like the Dark Idiot will have to thank us. Our ritual should stabilize this corrupted body so he can be stuck in it forever."
Half a dozen or so pops sounded around us. The rest of the coven apparated directly to Heather, Bella, and I, using our tokens as points of reference. Aurora and Septima ferried the girls who didn't know how to apparate. Hermione — since I'd been teaching her — and Fleur came under their own power.
Luna beamed at me, bright as always despite our current situation. Daphne looked around in no small amount of shock, still shying away from Voldemort. Hermione hurried to Heather's side, checking the now-blushing Girl-Who-Lived over for any injuries she might have missed.
Septima approached me, mirroring Hermione in a much calmer fashion. Satisfied nothing was wrong, she sighed, "Good… Is everything ready?"
"It should be," I confirmed.
I waved my hand. Lines and circles shimmered into existence around the graveyard. A grand ritual design — scorched into the grass and earth — was revealed.
"Can you and Aurora check my work? I know we've already checked multiple times but just to be sure… And mostly to keep the rest of the girls busy. Bella and I have… dirty work… to do," I requested, wincing slightly at what came next.
Septima — my first love — nodded, looking at me with soft eyes, "Of course, Atlas. I'm proud of you."
She laid a lingering kiss on my lips. It brought me back into the moment, firming my resolve and reminding me what needed to be done for my family to be safe. She pulled away to do as I'd asked. I took a deep, fortifying breath.
"Bella, the sacrificial materials?" I simply asked.
Bella came up to lean her head on my shoulder in support, "My Angels have they all gathered up… Atlas baby… If you want, I can do this myself."
I shook my head firmly, "No, I need to do this as well. I won't dump all of that taint on you alone. This is something we'll share. You and I… We'll shoulder the Dark so the rest don't have to."
Bella shuddered against me, "O-Oh my… Oh my~!"
I put my arm around her and gave her a slight squeeze, "C'mon. Let's get this over with."
We turned to face what we had to do. Before we could begin, I remembered something.
"Luna!" I called behind me. "Sit on the Dark Torso for me, yeah?"
Luna barely hid her usually-hidden vindictive streak, "You got it, Bossman! I'm sure he'll love to hear about my theory for why Dark Lords are often insane idiots who are infected by Wrackspurts and plagued by Nargles~!"
I chuckled, shaking my head fondly. Luna plopped herself down on Voldemort's back as if he were a beanbag chair. She immediately began her 5-point lecture and essay on the nature of daft Dark Lords. As I walked away, I could have sworn I heard Voldemort sob with his face planted in the ground.
The pile of Death Eaters Bella's Angels were guarding wasn't a pretty sight. The only ones who were unharmed were the ones who surrendered. The rest were battered, bruised, already bleeding, stunned, or crippled.
And they were just the ones who managed to survive. Bella didn't bother picking up the dead ones, leaving them scattered around the graveyard as a warning to our sacrificial captives.
I focused inwardly for a moment. I could feel the ritual lingering on the edge of my magical awareness. I'd carved and scorched every line and design. It lay ready, just waiting to be powered.
Nothing to it, I started with the surrendered Death Eaters, "Right, here's how this will go. I don't care about your mask or identity. The DMLE can deal with that mess. But don't think that means I'll let you get away. You lost. That's it. Simple as. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be.
"All I need is your arm and a bit of your blood. This isn't some big trick or anything. I won't use it for anything but power. Hell, cooperating might even see you coming out of this better off.
"You'll be instrumental in banishing the 'Dark Lord', after all. I wouldn't count on that though… Regardless, I just need your blood. I'll take it by force if I have to. Won't make a lick of difference for this ritual."
The first Death Eater gave me their arm easily. I made a cut with my wand, right over the Dark Mark, and moved on. I didn't revel in the blood or sacrifice. I didn't let any of my emotions into the process. I was methodical and precise, making each incision and moving on to the next.
The instant blood was drawn, Black Blood Magic was engaged. The blood was sucked into the air, following invisible paths. It streamed away from us and to the ritual circle. There, the blood clung to the already-drawn lines and expanded to coat the entire circle, pulsing as if connected to a still-beating heart.
Bella worked from the other end of the captured Death Eaters, doing the exact same as me. We met in the middle and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in.
The air around the graveyard was electric with magical energy. The ritual no longer lurked at the edge of my mind. It was about the only thing I could focus on now. It bubbled as if ready to boil and erupt.
I held Bella's hand tightly in mine as we made our way back to the coven, leaving the Death Eaters guarded by living statues. The girls were gathered back around Voldemort and Luna. Thankfully, Luna's rambles eased some of the tension I felt from holding the ritual at the ready.
"-Terror? Fear? Blood purity? Bah! How silly! All Dark Lords do is give the rest of us villains a bad name.
"Then there's how every Dark Lord is so obsessed with immortality. Sounds rather boring, if you ask me. Wizards and Witches already routinely live for hundreds of years. I mean, everyone knows Barry Wee Willie Winkle. He'll be 760 years old this year! Not even Nicholas Flamel is that old! It seems to me only silly gits and idiots chase after immortality."
There was no mistaking it now. Voldemort was sobbing. Brought even lower than he already was by a teenage girl. To be fair to him though… it was Luna.
I waved a hand. Luna hopped off her torso-made-seat in surprise as I levitated Voldemort off the ground. His sobs were suddenly much more audible, to everyone's amusement. I directed him to the center of the ritual circle and the whole coven gathered around him.
I let out a breath, "For everyone watching at Hogwarts-…"
"People are watching…?!" Voldemort practically whimpered.
I continued right on over him, "I just want to make something clear. This isn't Human sacrifice. It's blood sacrifice. There's a difference. The Death Eaters… They'll all live. But they won't escape their rightful punishment again. House Black will make sure of that."
"So… how is this going to work?" Hermione asked, nervously wringing her hands.
"Just like this."
There was no chant. No fancy wand-waving. No sparks or explosions of magic. Just a soft blood-red glow that slowly overtook everything and a rush of wind that Couldn't Be.
Then several things happened at once. It was as if Voldemort's body suddenly became a black hole for a few very specific items. A snake was sucked in from somewhere nearby, hissing in surprise and shock. The moment it made contact with Voldemort, it fell to the ground, limp and dead.
A ring came next. Then a locket. A goblet. And finally, an intricate tiara. Voldemort's Horcruxes would have been called from the ends of the earth if that's where they were hiding.
Piece by piece, Voldemort's soul was forced back together. Yet he didn't become whole. His soul was just all in the same place for the first time in decades, held frozen for the moment by the ritual.
"Now, for the final binding… This might not be the time or place. But I figured I would make this moment count and do something special… Septima, how do you feel about handfasting the coven?" I asked slowly, almost cautiously.
Septima looked at me with widened eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Heather cocked her head, not quite getting it. Fleur and Gabrielle swooned — Fleur more so, of course. Hermione looked lost in thought and introspection. Daphne nodded as if she'd been expecting my proposal.
Luna cheered and clapped, "Yay~! Handfasting~!"
"Uh… what's handfasting?" Heather asked.
Aurora smirked, "Think of it as an unofficial wedding."
Hermione glared at me, "My parents will kill you if you marry their daughter like this. Here? Now? Without even asking my father's permission?! Atlas Black, we will do this properly. And there will be an official wedding as well."
"With cake~! And sprinkles~!" Luna added helpfully.
I gaped at them for a second before bursting into laughter, "Haha~! No, no, you're mistaken. This isn't me proposing. At least, not like that.
"'To handfast' can mean a lot of different things in many different cultures but the verb directly means 'to formally promise, to make a contract'. That's what this is. It's a pledge, a binding, between all of us. A way of saying I'll never abandon this family and coven.
"The fact that it will anchor the sealing effect of the ritual is just a bonus."
"Oh… I see…" Hermione blushed. "You… will still propose though, won't you…?"
I nodded, promising, "When we're ready. And I'll be sure to 'do it properly'. Your father can give me the 'shovel/shotgun' speech just like Fleur's did."
"How romantic…" Daphne said flatly with the barest twitch of her lips.
"This handfasting has special meaning to Septima though," Aurora elaborated. "It's a coven handfasting. If there was ever a definite time a new House was formed, it would be then — now, I suppose."
I took Septima's hands into mine, "What do you say, love? Want to make this pledge? Want to make House Septima a reality?"
That broke her out of her daze and her eyes shined bright as stars in the sky alongside her smile, "Yes, yes, a million times yes! Though… I think House White is more appropriate."
I couldn't help but return her smile, "It's your House, your dream. You can call it anything you want, love."
Turning to the rest of the coven, I asked, "Any other objections?"
The answer was a resounding 'no'. Only Hermione raised a concern, "Wait! How do we do this? Is there a ceremony? Shouldn't we rehearse? Oh, Merlin, don't we need rings or something?!"
"It will be quite simple, Hermione dear. Just follow our lead," Aurora reassured.
"Right," I nodded. "Hands, everyone? I'll start."
The coven joined hands in a circle and I said my pledge, starting the handfasting process, "My girls, my coven, my family. I promise to shield you and shoulder all of your burdens as if they were my own until the end."
"This coven has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I won't let it go now that it's in my grasp," Septima pledged.
As she did, magic responded to our handfasting. Ghostly silver chains encircled our joined hands. They sparkled. They shined. They bound us together.
Aurora smirked, her pledge unorthodox, "I suppose I'm here for a good time and a long time, huh?"
The chains extended, connecting Septima to Aurora. They would continue to do the same around the rest of the circle until they reached Hermione and connected to me again.
"I promise to keep this coven forever free of Wrackspurts~!" Luna pledged cheerfully.
"Anything for my baby boy~ Anything for my daughters-in-law~" Bella pledged.
"All of you get to help keep Astoria in check too now…" Daphne deadpanned.
Gabrielle sported a mischievous smirk during her pledge, "To conquering the world and driving Fleur crazy with my sisters and Mon Ange."
Fleur ignored her sister, pledging theatrically, "I cannot imagine finer Witches to help keep this devilish villain in check with me!"
Heather had tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face, "You guys… I don't know much about family. So I'll make this the family I never got the chance to have."
Finally, Hermione finished the ceremony, rolling her eyes, "Oh, yeah, make me end it off, why don't you? How am I supposed to follow up after Heather's? Oh, fine. I promise to provide the coven with the common sense Wizards so often lack."
The silver chains solidified for a brief moment before dissolving into motes of magic. The handfasting set in. I brought forth the ritual in my mind at the same time. As the handfasting chains disappeared, the concept of binding was imbued into the ritual.
As if sewn together by a thread, Voldemort's broken soul became a patchwork quilt. He still wasn't whole. He never would be. But the fragments of his soul wouldn't be allowed to roam free either.
The final piece settled into place. The ritual was complete. Blood flowed along the circles, pooling in the center around Voldemort's body. The blood began to smoke and burn away.
"Bye-bye, Tom~!" Luna chimed.
"See ya never~!" Heather added.
"Nooooooooooo-!" Voldemort's final screech of defeat was interrupted by the ritual's completion.
The last of the blood burned away. There was a slow tearing sound as the ground beneath the ritual circle opened up. Voldemort was dragged into the tear. It zipped back shut like it was never there. It was done. Voldemort was exiled — banished — to 'Tartarus'…
All of us let out sighs of relief. None more so than Heather. It was as if the weight of the world was taken off her shoulders. She began to laugh.
"Hahahahahah~! Yesssssss~! Maybe now I can have a normal year for once!"
Hermione whipped out her WWO parchment as Heather had her moment of catharsis. She scribbled something frantically. I peeked over her shoulder to see what she was doing.
"Operation R.E.V.O.L.U.T.I.O.N…?"
"Recently Employed Volunteers Overthrowing Largely Underperforming Tyrants to Implement an Orderly Nation," Hermione explained without looking up from her parchment for a single moment.
"Hermione, no…" I had a feeling this was coming but right now?
She looked me dead in the eye, serious as Fudge's funeral bell, "The revolution will — in fact — be televised."
IIIII
AN: This chapter took a bit longer to write but it's equally longer for that wait. 11.5k words… But it's done! Voldemort's been banished, Heather's been 'helped', and the revolution has started.
There are two more chapters after this. Call them a long epilogue. They'll contain one last WWO section, reactions, and the revolution. Then a vacation for the coven, and many smut scenes.
After that, the Grind is officially over for me (for now). I'm sure I'll return to this story at some point. I just want to thank all of the readers for sticking with/supporting this story for so long. It's been my biggest project to date and I can't thank y'all enough.
As for the future, I feel the need to let you all know what I plan on doing next. I'll be starting a snippet thread on QQ (and maybe Webnovel. I haven't decided yet). So I'll be focusing on shorter, more contained stories/one-shots/smut as well as the starts of various stories (snippets, for the uninitiated).
I'd actually like to hear my Webnovel readers' opinions on that format. I haven't seen many snippet 'threads' on Webnovel. Usually, the stories there are solely dedicated to one idea/story. If it's something that sounds interesting, let me know.
While I'm doing all of that, I'll be shopping around for an original story idea. I'm pretty sure my next major project will be original so that's why. But it will probably be a while until then. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to see me write. I can't promise anything concrete but I'm always open to ideas.
Update: I've found an original idea I quite like. But I won't be focusing on it for a while. I want its development to be 'slow-roasted' lol. So while it's planned and all that, I'm going to be doing other projects.
