Twilight

Twilight

L.S. Song

Chapter Fifteen - In the Serpent's Mind

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood in his cold, empty house, alone, his followers out striking the Eiffel Tower in Paris. He had just a couple of house-elves and Wormtail in his house to serve on him.

He was exhilarated. Two weeks ago, little half-blood Potter had cast the killing curse on him. He smashed against the wall, writhing in agony, but in five tortured seconds, it was over, and he was alive.

He had done the impossible. He reached immortality.

And a day after Potter and his mudblood brat escaped from his clutches, angry as he was he couldn't hide his glee at finally achieving his dream. He was immortal. He was as powerful as God - and probably even stronger than him.

What sweetened the day even more was the death of Albus Dumbledore. Despite what he may act like in front of everyone else, Albus Dumbledore truly was a wizard that he had once feared - he had seen through him at school, and had been the greatest opposing force in his first reign in power. He had almost defeated him once near the start of his reign, stripping him of almost all of his powers. It took long years to rebuild and add to his powers, and when he resurfaced, all that was left of Tom Riddle were the memories.

He had celebrated the day by announcing his next target in the plainest way possible. Gathering all of his forces, he terrorized England.

Since then, things had gone all uphill for Lord Voldemort.

He had recovered the Veil of Death from the Ministry of Magic.

He had captured Minister Fudge and placed a loyal Death Eater in his position using Polyjuice Potion.

He had Viktor Krum in his prisons, torturing him for information on the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, the last competent force that stood in his way - no... his Death Eaters' way. He himself had no opposition.

He was immortal.

But most significantly, he had just captured a Weasley. From what Draco Malfoy had informed him of, this family was the closest thing Potter had to a family. He would be sure to keep this Weasley as blackmail material in the future.

He waited alone in his throne room, looking upon the dishes of the finest French food and wine the house-elves could make.

He drank his wine, and decided it was time to prepare a massive attack, one that would make Grindelwald jealous.

He decided, with Dumbledore out of the way, he'd strike at Hogwarts.

After all, Potter couldn't stop him - he was still a boy. Better to press the advantage now before he truly reached manhood. But what was he thinking about? No one could stop him now.

He was IMMORTAL! His life goal had been achieved - now what he needed to do was proceed to his second goal in life. The noble work that was needed to rid the world of impurities, and re-establish the meaning of pureblood in the world.

After all, muggles were scum. All of them. Just like his father.

They deserved it, he thought. They were just unthankful little beasts... parasites, scavengers. Why they existed in the first place, multiplying like rats he would never know.

What he did know was he would be the one to purge the world of these muggles.

It was his vision - a society of purebloods, some mudbloods kept as slaves, and he would be the master of this society. He was born to rule. Born to be great... he was their sole heir of Salazar Slytherin. When the filthy muggle blood that had left his veins, so did the ability to sympathize.

Emotion was a weakness, and Lord Voldemort would allow himself no weakness, unlike those disgusting little 'good' wizards who prided themselves for taking a stand against 'evil'.

There was no such thing as good or evil, just power and those who were too weak to seek it, as he had told young Harry Potter before he had become irrevocably stuck on to the 'good' side.

How dare he refuse the Heir of Slytherin? The little half-blood had also escaped from him many times by now, luck had always seemed to side with the brat. He would not escape the next time they met. The fool had even dared to challenge him in front of his own Death Eaters... amazing guts the boy did have, but had very little, if any, brains in his skull.

Rage took Lord Voldemort, and he decided that he would take it out on the disgusting Muggle-loving Albus Dumbledore's fort.

Poring over his plans, Tom Riddle let out a savage smile. "Careful, Potter. I'm coming to get you."

He summoned Wormtail with a wave of his wand.

Wormtail appeared by his side, slightly wincing with pain - Voldemort knew better than anyone else that the summoning of his servants caused them much pain. They deserved it, he thought. Pain made one strong, it killed off the emotion of love, a useless feeling that cut off a man's better sense.

Tom Riddle had ceased to love from the moment he was born. He had seen 'true love' in his lifetime, but he could never understand it. Perfectly powerful wizards throwing their lives out for the sake of Mudblood witches... it was unthinkable.

"Wormtail. Come here."

The short little man stumbled over in his anxiousness to serve his master.

Voldemort pulled up Wormtail's sleeve, and stroked the Dark Mark on his arm.

Wormtail bit his lip, hiding his pain. But Lord Voldemort knew everything going on in the minds of his followers. Wormtail was unhappy, scared. He knew that Wormtail's loyalty was already fading, and was now only staying with him because he was the strong one in the war. He had no choice.

This, instead of bothering him, made him smile in delight.

Lord Voldemort loved the thought of hierarchy. The strongest rule, the weakest serve. Because everyone knew, he was indeed the strongest.

It was his responsibility to try and help his loyal followers attain a level of strength too. Torture and fear was needed to be strong. His own childhood was a difficult one, living life knowing that disgusting muggle filth had plagued his very own blood. It was not until he had grown older did he find a way to filter and destroy the muggle blood within him, and only then did he truly become Lord Voldemort. Yes fear and suffering was important indeed.

It was the training that everyone needed to become strong.

Death Eaters began apparating to his side, and kneeling down before him. He knew that most of the Death Eaters were either in awe of him and were afraid, or they were just thirsty for a bit of power. Only a few were truly loyal to him.

When they had all arrived, Lord Voldemort stood.

"I believe, my dear Death Eaters, after a series of minor attacks, including your attack on the Eiffel Tower, which I'm sure has succeeded, it is time for a full-scale attack."

No Death Eater spoke up. None of them were stupid enough to interrupt their Lord in a speech as important as this one.

"What say you all to destroying the safe haven of my first reign? How about we destroy Dumbledore's safehouse and rip apart his corpse? How about we show the world that Harry Potter isn't the all-powerful hero? HOW ABOUT WE SET ABOUT OUR GREATEST GOAL? TO RID THE WORLD OF MUDBLOODS AND MUGGLES!" he shouted.

Death Eaters cheered, clapped, and stomped their feet.

"Then it is settled, my loyal servants. We strike in thirteen days."

***

It was a curious thing, the veil of Death. Lord Voldemort heard more than anyone else what was behind it - or rather what was in it.

There were voices of people, people banging on steel walls with bare fists to get out. They were struggling people, both good and bad.

It was a phenomenon. For these people were not yet dead, but trapped in another dimension. How this veil managed to do so was amazing. He could, invent a spell that would do the same. It would be a better punishment than death, a meaningless existence, trapped on another plane of existence, forsaken by your very friends to be dead.

Yes, that would be torture, worse than any pain for a wizard of the light, to see what no one can see, but also to find no purpose in living, no joys, no happiness.

Lord Voldemort smiled a sneer like smile of delight, imagining the good wizards that had fallen into the veil.

It was settled. He'd work to develop a spell to mirror the Veil's effects.

It would be the fate for young Potter.

But first, he would have to study this magical veil, and see just how it worked, and how to reverse the effects, if possible at all.

He would need some experiments, and some guinea pigs to work with.

"Wormtail, fetch me Viktor Krum."

***

"You, Krum, have the honor of assisting me in my experiments since you so unwittingly defied me in giving me information..."

Viktor Krum, his face gaunt, his eyes sunken, slumping over pathetically, spat at Voldemort's feet.

"Crucio."

As Krum twitched on the floor, biting his lip to not allow a scream to escape, Voldemort said, "Now let's try that again, now, why don't we..."

"Imperio!"

"Stand up, filthy Bulgarian."

Krum stood.

"Put your hand into the veil."

Krum moved slowly, his face muscle twitching violently for just a second. He walked slowly up to the veil.

Voldemort felt the internal battle going on in Krum's mind.

He stuck his hand into the gently swaying Veil silently.

"Take your hand out."

As Krum took his right hand out from the veil, he let out a savage shriek.

The hand was gone, and all that was left was a stump.

Voldemort looked upon this with a smile.

"Now, put half of your head in and observe what you see."

Krum now visibly shook on the outside, Voldemort sensed the imperius curse weakening.

"DO IT NOW!"

Krum did as he was told.

"Now... take your head out."

He was monsterous.

Disgusting.

Unreal.

It was impossible to live the way Viktor Krum was standing, half his brain amputated.

"What did you see?"

Krum's dying word was, "Black..."

He fell to the floor, dead. Without any blood, Lord Voldemort found himself staring at half a human head and the rest of the body with a right hand missing.

"Mobilicorpus."

Krum's body was floating in the air lightly.

Voldemort directed it into the veil slowly, watching how the veil liquefied and absorbed the body.

Indeed it looked painful.

The experiment was pretty much successful; Lord Voldemort knew what he really needed to know.

But what did Krum mean by 'black'? Surely the next dimension wouldn't be as dull as a blank black world would it?

However, there was no time to ponder on this, work needed to be done.

Voldemort summoned a rarely used Dark Arts book, dusted it off, and began his research to create the spell to banish people into the separate plane.

***

"Report, Malfoy, on your father's condition."

"Yes, my lord. My father is currently recovering rapidly, he is quickly learning to use a wand now... however all the spells he once knew he forgot, but if mother teaches him a spell, it comes naturally to him - it must be in his blood."

"Does he remember anything of the world?"

"No, my lord."

"When will he be ready to resume service?"

"I'm not sure, master. He may be developing rapidly, but he is still just a baby in mind... I'd say a couple of years at the earliest until he is able to serve again."

"We have no use for him then. Withdraw your mother from this tiresome task. I need all the Death Eaters I can get on board for the attack on Hogwarts. Even with Dumbledore out of the way, Hogwarts is still very safe for them..."

"But master, what of my father?"

"See if he regains any memory if we leave him alone to die."

"But..."

"CRUCIO! HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME?"

Draco Malfoy writhed on the floor, yelling out in agony. The shrieks of pain were like music to Voldemort's ears.

"Well? Any objections?" sneered Voldemort.

"No, master..." stuttered Draco Malfoy and ran as fast as his pained legs could carry him out of the room.

Voldemort smiled, drinking another glass of the finest red wine in France to a victory at Hogwarts. Little Malfoy was lucky that he felt very forgiving right now.

"WORMTAIL!" he bellowed.

"Yes... yes... yes master?"

"Call all our overseas followers. This will be a full-scale attack. This time, Hogwarts will bow to our power."

Voldemort had gathered all of the petty underground criminal organizations he could find also. Quantity in this battle would most surely be more important than quality.

He, Lord Voldemort, would wipe out the safe haven for mudbloods that the old fool had protected for so long.

Thirst for vengeance was built up in Lord Voldemort. All those pathetic students, whose blood was tainted with the muggle filth like that pathetic excuse for a human his father was, would be killed. Captured, tortured, and killed.

He let out a long evil laugh.

It was seven days until the scheduled day of the attack.

***

"Now, Avery, and Dolohov. I have a task for you two under the polyjuice potions. I trust you are ready?"

"Yes master."

"Good. Dolohov, as Fudge, I want you to call an emergency Auror attack on Hogwarts - Minerva McGonagall is a traitor to them, she has been passing me information. That is your excuse, if you really need one. Hopefully, your emergency powers as the Minister should allow you to call this attack without specifying a reason?"

"Yes my lord, I believe the Minister's word is sufficient enough to call a strike force into action," said Dolohov rather sarcastically for Lord Voldemort's liking.

"That will be our... first wave of attackers. No doubt Hogwarts defences will not fall to them, but it cuts off their extra support. Use the Aurors to set up anti apparition and portkey spells, and to blast open the main door, and then send them into the forest, where our troops will be waiting. We kill them then and there, to cripple the ministry, and to destroy Hogwarts in one day. Think of it as two birds with one stone."

"Avery, as Viktor Krum I want you to infiltrate Hogwarts. Sources state that he is a member of Dumbledore's Order... an overseas spy. They will trust him. Take your position within Hogwarts. When I give the signal - an explosion of the gamekeeper's hut, I want you to draw your wand and eliminate Severus Snape. He is one of the few competent teachers left in the school that could really cause us some problems. If possible, I want you to find and kill the Headmistress McGonagall and the auror Mad-eye Moody also. I hear of a new teacher employed by McGonagall... should she look dangerous, and should your cover still be intact, end her life as well."

"Yes master."

"When the battle starts, if your cover is not yet blown, I want you to discreetly attack whatever defences Hogwarts has left from within their own ranks."

"Understood?"

"Yes, master."

"Oh... and leave Potter to me."

Yes, everything was going well. He could almost feel his fingers crushing Potter's skull, and the shrieks of his friends and worshipers, watching their last hope being crushed like a bug.

All was blissful for Lord Voldemort. He had now finished the spell to banish Potter's soul into the separate plane of existence. But he wouldn't use it until he had broken Potter's body, mind, and soul. Vengeance would be ever so sweet.

It was a day before the attack.

He shuddered in anticipation.

***

Everything was perfect. His forces were thousands strong, he had Dolohov and Avery positioned already, he had finished the banishing spell to send Potter into the seventh dimension. Morale was high indeed. Tonight, Hogwarts would meet its end, and the hero of the wizarding world would fall with it. He trembled with delight.

"Master, we're ready," reported Draco Malfoy.

Voldemort took a while to survey his forces assembled inside the magically enlarged Riddle Mansion.

Five hundred strong attack trolls, his fifty loyal Death Eaters, eight thousand dark wizards, about four thousand criminals he had amassed, and all that was left of the Dementors in the whole of Britain and Europe.

"Excellent. On my order, we move out. Hogwarts shall fall."

Trolls stomped, humans stomped and clapped, criminals hooted and bellowed, and dementors let out rattle-like hisses.

"Onwards, we go, loyal forces!"

Wizards that could apparate did so, Trolls and Dementors were sent by custom made portkeys, other wizards that couldn't apparate flooed or portkeyed. He himself apparated right in the middle of a pub in Hogsmeade. He remembered this particular pub as one he visited often during his time at Hogwarts.

All memories. It was a sign of weakness. Weakness was not for Lord Voldemort.

"Maximus Reducto!" he bellowed, blowing the pub into pieces.

"LORD VOLDEMORT HAS ARRIVED!"

For any onlooker, it would've been a terrible scene.

Wizards could be seen all around sent spells flying about Hogsmeade, ripping apart the beautiful little village. Trolls blundered about, smashing cottages into sawdust, Dementors glided everywhere, performing the Kiss on anyone who was foolish enough to still be in the area.

But most horrible of all was the pale, white face and the glowing red eyes of Lord Voldemort, who's very presence struck fear into the very soul of everything in a mile's radius from him.

Every last wizard, witch and child who saw this massive army knew exactly what, or rather who it was looking for.

The Boy-who-Lived.

Every single one of them prayed for his soul, and theirs. Darkness had already began to fall.