Even Angels Fall, Part Three
Posted by Headgirl | Filed under Fan Fiction
Part Three
The sun climbed the early morning sky of London as people buzzed about the bustling city, off to work and to run errands under the field of blue with scattered clouds. It was as normal a day as any other. At a crosswalk, a mother and son waited for traffic to come to a stop before crossing the street. Cars came to a halt as the green light became red.
“Come on, dear,” she told her child as she took the boy’s hand. There wasn’t much longer before the light changed again for them to cross to the other side of the street. “We’re going to be late at this rate.” She tugged lightly on the boy’s hand.
“But why’s the sky funny now?” the child asked, raising his free hand to point at the swirling dark clouds that were moving to blot out the sun.
The woman gazed up in wonder as the rising wind tossed her hair at the dark clouds that swirled as the sky darkened, casting a gloom about the city. They soon resolved into the shape of a skull, a serpent spewing forth from the skull’s widened jaw in the parody of a lolling tongue.
“What on earth?” she gasped, shocked at the strange sight.
Others around her joined in the surprise that soon turned to horror as amorphous clouds of black whirled from the sky to touch the ground, resolving into dark clad figures, their faces covered with masks in the shape of skulls. Animated from her shocked stupor, the woman scooped up her child and ran in the opposite direction.
“Incendio,” she heard a voice say, and the newsstand that she’d just passed went up in flames. The woman spared a look behind her as green light flared on the edge of her vision. Before she’d even turned her head completely around, she was tossed child in hand against the side of a building, falling still. Panicked people scattered around her.
Screams filled the air as people fled, the screeching of brakes being applied as drivers tried, and some failing, to strike the pedestrians who sought escape. Metal grinded against metal as cars struck each other in the resulting confusion.
“What are those things?” one dark robed figure asked, pointing at a wreck of twisted metal.
“The Muggles call them automobiles,” another Death Eater filled in, absently casting a hex at a fleeing Muggle who was tossed into the air as green light surrounded him. “They’re carriages that don’t require horses.”
“They use a flammable potion to make them run,” Bellatrix’ voice supplied. “They burn nicely, I’ll show you.” She cast at a nearby car, a fire ball striking the center, and the gas tank ignited with a roar.
“Splendid!” another exclaimed, imitating her actions and causing more of the escaping cars to ignite and explode, causing other drivers to flee their autos to escape on foot.
“Come on,” Bellatrix urged. “We don’t have much time before the Aurors come. Let’s give these Muggles a proper show.” The others followed the woman into the center of the city, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.
Seated on his throne, Voldemort waited. The first bit of his plans had been set in motion. It was meant to be just a mere demonstration of his power. Just a taste to let that old fool know that he was powerless to stop him, not when he had his precious boy savior ensconced in his unplottable mansion. That vile prophecy be damned. He still knew little of what it said, but it mattered not now that the boy had fallen into his hands.
Reaching out with his mind, Voldemort sought out his dearest servant, sliding into Nagini’s mind to peer at the boy through her eyes. The serpent obligingly raised her head to gaze at Harry when she felt her master’s presence. The boy was still seated where he had been when Voldemort had left the room earlier, although he did seem to have eaten much of his breakfast. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, his forehead resting against them. Voldemort gazed at the top of Harry’s unruly head of hair. Despite the child’s usual outward sunny disposition, the boy seemed to enjoy his brooding. Pondering his fate, no doubt, the Dark Lord thought with a smirk.
Voldemort had decided to forego killing the boy after seeing what was inside of him. And what a shock he’d had when he looked into Harry’s mind. Although Voldemort was a little disappointed that he hadn’t realized what he’d made the boy into sooner. The clues were all there. Perhaps he’d been too focused on wanting to kill the Potter child, to make him suffer for the depths to which he’d made Voldemort sink to cling to life that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of him.
He simply had to protect the boy now, his little accidental Horcrux. Voldemort was loath to lose any of his pieces of soul. But why not turn this to his advantage? Why not make use of this time they had together to twist the Potter child’s loyalty away from those he cared for? The dark wizard smirked. It’s not as if the boy wasn’t more than a tool to the forces of Light, despite their protests otherwise. If the boy wasn’t so simple, so desperate for someone’s, anyone’s, approval and affection, he would see it himself. But why shouldn’t he become Voldemort’s tool instead?
The Dark Lord had to admit that there was a strange symmetry to the two of them. It was as though he and the boy were on either side of a cracked mirror, gazing at each other. If Harry’s perspective on his life were different, he could have become him. Voldemort smiled faintly as he tapped his lower lip with a long finger. Oh yes. And become him the boy shall. He would pull the boy through that looking glass so that he’d peer at the world with eyes like his own. And wouldn’t it be sweet when the day came that Dumbledore was face to face with his boy savior, tainted beyond redemption? He would relish the look in those deep blue eyes before he sent the old man onward to death. Allow him to see the two of them side by side, master and servant. Perfect. But he’d have to play this just right to win the boy to his side and keep him there.
A pupil. What a novel idea. Voldemort grinned, more certain than ever to make the child The Boy Who Lived to Serve Him.
In the ruins of midtown London, the Death Eaters watched Muggles in odd uniforms gather, taking refuge behind overturned cars and debris to point strange shaped objects in their direction and order them to stop. Weapons of some sort, they supposed. When the wizards advanced on them, they set seemingly invisible objects whizzing past them, a few of the Death Eaters felled by them. A liberal use of hexes sent the annoying Muggles scattering, well-placed Incendios sending their hiding places up in flames.
“Aurors!” a Death Eater yelled from somewhere nearby. Bellatrix turned to peer through the rising smoke as she heard the crack of Apparition, the light wizards arriving en masse. She joined her comrades in firing off curses at their rivals.
“Let’s go!” she shouted, fleeing through the din. Their group had done what they’d set out to do. It was up to Lucius’ cohort back in the Wizarding World for the next phase. As the smoke began to clear in her area due to the wind, she caught sight of an unmasked Rudolphus ahead of her and off to her side. Before his name passed her lips, she heard several loud pops and saw the man begin to fall.
Enraged, she screamed as she ran forward, casting a hex at the Muggle who turned to point that thing he was holding at her that made the man practically turn inside out, his gore spilling onto the pavement. When she reached her husband, he was groaning and clutching at his middle.
“Rodolphus, get up,” Bellatrix urged, grabbing the man under his shoulders in an effort to haul him to his feet. The man was too weak to rise on his own and only gurgled and groaned in response to her. “Rodolphus-!” Her words were cut off by the sight of Aurors converging on them.
Holding her husband close, Bellatrix spared the approaching wizards a glare before the crack of Apparition pulled the two of them away to the meeting point. Bellatrix sighed with relief when the sight of the clearing in the woods not far from the mansion resolved around them. The other Death Eaters of her cohort soon appeared to join them, some looking worse for wear. She looked down, about to reassure her husband that they had arrived safely, but was met with empty eyes staring up at her.
Back at the Order’s headquarters at Grimmauld Place, the mood around the table was grim. Moody took a seat at the table to inform the other members of the Order of the latest events. He gazed at Dumbledore, who nodded for him to begin.
“As you know, in the morning, a group of Death Eaters attacked Muggle London. We weren’t able to capture any of them, although a few of them were injured. They took their casualties with them. We were working overtime to Obliviate everyone after the Death Eaters had fled the scene,” Moody told them. “The Muggle news stations are calling it a ‘terrorist attack,’ whatever that is. This may have been some sort of diversion, since they seemed to use our preoccupation to attack one of the outlying Auror headquarters while many of them had been drawn away.”
“He’s getting bold because he still has Harry,” Remus said grimly.
“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said, his hands steepled in thought. “Regardless, we must try to take precautions of some sort. There’s no telling when Voldemort intends to make his next attack. Reconnaissance is of course of the essence now,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes passing across the members at the table until they fell onto Severus. Dark eyes met blue. Dumbledore was aware that Severus had received no summons from the Dark Lord, as the two of them had been together at Hogwarts at the time. Whatever it was, Dumbledore suspected that the dark wizard didn’t trust the potions master enough to inform him of his latest plans or allow him to participate in certain aspects of them. The headmaster frowned. Perhaps Voldemort was just being overly cautious right now. Perhaps Severus’ position as the Order’s most valuable spy could still be salvaged.
On the top floor of the mansion, Voldemort gazed out of the window at the afternoon scenery. Things had shaped up much as he’d hoped. They’d dealt both the Muggles and more importantly the side of Light a decisive blow with minimal losses. Voldemort frowned, watching with mild annoyance the raging fire that had only just been quelled in the nearby forest. Bellatrix was as inconsolable as to be expected at the loss of her husband. She’d been dragged away kicking and screaming after setting the woods near the Apparition point ablaze before the other Death Eaters had been forced to stun her. It wouldn’t do for such displays of grief to attract attention to the forest as near as it was to their hiding place. It was a shame to lose the man, even Voldemort had to admit. The Lestranges were among the most loyal of his servants. He hoped he didn’t lose Bellatrix as well to further madness. Voldemort looked thoughtful as he gazed at the diminishing smoke rising from the forest. Perhaps the loss would make her more vicious and determined instead. This could be helpful as long as it didn’t make the woman too reckless.
Pulling away from the window, the Dark Lord headed down the hallway toward his prisoner and houseguest. The door opened before him to the sight of Harry near the side window, detracted for the moment by the sight of Nagini stretching her mouth around a large rat. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, wondering for a moment if it was Pettigrew in animagus form. If it were, it would hardly be much of a loss. At least he’d be spared from the man’s continued sniveling.
Seeing the dark wizard out of the periphery of his vision, Harry turned back to regard the scenery beyond the window, wondering idly what had started the fire that he’d watched for a time before it had been extinguished. He wondered if he’d ever see anything beyond the four walls he was imprisoned by again. Would the others come for him, or was he hidden away by Voldemort too well? He tried not to cringe as he heard the Dark Lord’s steps lead to a halt behind him.
“Don’t be concerned by the fire, Harry,” Voldemort said from far too nearby. The teen could almost feel the body heat radiating off of the other wizard, he was standing so close. “Nothing can harm us as long as we’re behind the wards.”
And no one can get to me, either, Harry thought sullenly. He started as he felt a long-fingered hand rest on his shoulder. So shocked was he that Harry didn’t resist when he was turned by that hand, gently but firmly.
Harry looked up into a pair of intense red eyes that gazed down at him with a shuttered expression, the wizard’s face a mask of pleasantness. “I just realized how ungracious of a host I’ve been, Harry. I haven’t even shown you the rest of the mansion. Where have my manners gone?” Voldemort asked lightly.
Harry gazed up at the man with an expression of quizzical wariness that morphed into a form of horror as the Dark Lord’s hand slid from his shoulder down his arm to take his hand in his own. Voldemort backed away as Harry’s feet remained glued to the spot. The man smiled faintly as he drew away with the length of Harry’s arm between them. Voldemort tugged on the hand he clasped, making the surprised boy stumble forward as he was pulled away from the window. Recovering as if from a sudden fugue, Harry pulled his hand away quickly as if burned, cradling it in his other hand as if some sort of pain or odd sensation still lingered in it.
Voldemort canted his head to one side, amused by the Potter child’s behavior and his flushed cheeks. He was so easy to fluster. It was practically delicious. “Don’t you want to get out of here for a while, Harry?” Voldemort asked him.
“I’d rather stay here,” Harry said. Despite the fact that he wanted to get out of the room, he had a sinking feeling about allowing Voldemort to take him anywhere.
The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed even as his expression remained pleasant. “Oh, I must insist. It would be rude for you to refuse, Harry. Didn’t those Muggles teach you any propriety? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they failed in that as in everything else.”
Harry rubbed his hand. The man didn’t know the half of it, or maybe he did, that and more, since the wizard had so casually treaded through every memory he’d ever had. And Harry refused to think about how he had to agree with the man, at least where the Dursleys were concerned. Frowning, he stepped forward reluctantly, unable to repress a shiver as Voldemort’s hand landed on his shoulder again and he found himself steered out of the room.
Acting the part of the gracious host, Voldemort gave Harry a tour of the relatively innocuous parts of the mansion. There were several areas on the first floor and lower levels that he didn’t show the boy for obvious reasons. It wasn’t long until the front door opened before them, Voldemort gesturing past the doorway with an elegant hand. Harry stepped over the threshold, surprise written all over his face at being allowed outside. Voldemort smirked beside him. He led the boy along a stone path, grass and weeds peeking up through ragged flat stone periodically along its length.
“I suppose that I could allow you on the grounds during the daytime, since it seems to please you so much,” Voldemort informed him, clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s not good for a growing boy to be inside all day.” He gazed down at a frowning Harry. “The wards will only let you go so far from the mansion. You’ll be able to sense them if you draw close enough. I wouldn’t test their limits, Harry. Brushing up against them would feel rather… unpleasant,” the man informed him, a hint of a smile on his face.
Harry gazed down sullenly, feeling the urge to place his hands around his shoulders but resisting somehow. He’d rather that the man let him go, but that seemed as unlikely as Aurors finding the place they had him hidden.
“I’m sure you realize that I can’t do that Harry,” the wizard told him in answer to his unvoiced desires. How did the man keep sensing what he thought? “Although there may come a time when you aren’t as limited,” he continued.
Harry seriously doubted this. Whatever game the wizard had decided to play of late, Harry didn’t like it. Not knowing what the Dark Lord was playing at with his recent behavior was unnerving. As they walked on the pathway behind the mansion, they came across Bellatrix leaning against the side wall as she stood upon the grass. Harry frowned. Her behavior seemed a lot different than when he’d seen her at the Ministry of Magic. Sensing their presence, she raised her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Ah, Bellatrix, you’re awake now, I see,” Voldemort said, approaching to place a hand on each of her shoulders. She gazed up at him, nodding faintly.
“It’s such a shame to lose Rodolphus,” he told her. “He was among the most loyal of my servants, such loyalty that he didn’t deny me at a time when so many others did. I don’t forget devotion such as that.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Bellatrix said, her voice full of emotion.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll pay them back, won’t you, dear Bellatrix, for every drop of blood that Rodolphus shed?”
“I will,” she told him, her eyes glittering up at him with renewed purpose.
Voldemort smiled. “Good. I intend to give you many opportunities to do so in the coming weeks.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” the woman said, bowing deeply as her master stepped away. She watched as the man turned, drawing Harry away with him.
Harry knew from their words that something had happened, that Death Eaters apparently had died in some sort of attack, but Voldemort’s mood seemed high. Somehow, Harry knew that the man’s pleasure wasn’t feigned. Whatever had occurred, the outcome had been in the Dark Lord’s favor. The man seemed in no hurry to impart any details to him, however. Harry spared a glance up at the wizard beside him as he was led back toward the entrance of the mansion, feeling a pair of red eyes on him periodically on their way.
July 27th, 2009 at 9:08 pm
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