Chapter 2: Chapter 2
I needed to be extremely productive to frame Black, ensure Pettigrew's fame and take care of the Longbottoms before magic boost from Samhain night was over.
I was flying with imperioed Black to London. Why not apparate? He may have a chance to fight the curse during apparition. I was also using this time to assess my abilities. So far, they were impressive.
Lord Voldemort's magic reserve and recovery speed were ten times higher than the average wizard's. Second only to Dumbledore, at least in Britain. Most of of his skills were oriented towards causing harm. Proficient with an incredible number of high-level spells, especially dark, soul, battle and mind magic. A bit less knowledge in transfiguration, potions, rituals and runes, but still high above the mastery requirements. Good enough at Light magic to cast a Patronus, but that was the ceiling. Zero knowledge of household magic.
What did a magical battle look like? If it were only a matter of waving a wand and saying an incantation, a gun or even a crossbow would be more effective. Wand-waving and shouting spells was the domain of school kids. Perhaps, with the exception of the Unforgivables- enunciating them helped to avoid wasting too much energy.
On Voldemort's level, it was usually enough to point the wand and focus on what you want to happen to the target. Simple spells like the cutting curse could be fired as fast as a machine gun without outpacing the regeneration rate. As for speed and power... A bullet did the same damage regardless of who fired it. Incendio barely lit a piece of paper for an average 11 year old but could be comparable to a highly explosive missile in the hands of someone like Riddle. Within the range of one's abilities, speed and power could be controlled with intense focus.
Of course, a wizard could be killed with a bullet to the head from a sniper rifle. Unless he prepared a kinetic shield before the battle. Then bullets were useless until the energy poured into the shield is depleted. A third year's shield may be able to hold against several shots from a handgun; an average adult wizard's - against a grenade launcher; Riddle could survive a rain of artillery shells.
And so, Lord Voldemort was busy going through the usual routine of casting protection charms on himself. Universal mana shield, shield of dust, shields against the elements, mental shields, kinetic shield, shields against gases, sounds, gamma-radiation, microwave radiation... Wait, what? Radiation? Riddle, you must have been clinically paranoid! Who else could have a shield against radiation? Moody and Albus?
Next came camouflage charms: concealment of magic, aura, sound, heat and smell, attention repelling, standard invisibility, invisibility to radio waves... Riddle hated muggles, but he was not an idiot.
My reserve depleted by a quarter. Four tenth was tied to maintaining all the charms. And one tenth to controlling Black. Tough bastard.
Instinctively, I reached for the vials in my pocket. All decently strong potions were toxic. You must know how much to take and the interactions between them. Riddle knew. And, being paranoid, brewed everything himself.
Potion of regeneration, improved perception, acceleration, sensitivity to magic... After drinking about a third of the safety limit, my attention shifted back to Black. Unfortunately, it looked like I won't be able to keep him under the Imperius forever. Killing him would be a waste - he was very rich. But how to get to his money? No decent ideas yet, so I decided to throw him in Lestranges' dungeons for now. No one would miss him after I stage his death.
A gentle Seco - and a transfigured from air bottle got filled with a liter of Sirius Blacks' blood, followed by one finger and ear. This will be the terrorist's remains after the explosion. Two more spells temporarily replaced Black's missing parts with prosthetics.
Black and I finally reached a cluttered back alley in London, where we were greeted by the Lestranges and Pettigrew. Peter drank a potion to muddle up the results of the truth serum and legilimency enough to make them inadmissible. After all, he would be the only survivor, victim and witness.
Bella handed Sirius a family dagger with the Black crest and two nondescript amulets to block apparition and magic detection to prevent the Aurors from arriving too early. Pettigrew went under the Imperius without struggle. Now I could easily stage a play with two marionettes. Under concealment charms, we all walked into a nearby office building.
We entered a lecture hall. The teacher was speaking about something related to accounting. Fifty or so listeners were drowsily scribbling notes.
Time to begin our show. Bellatrix and Rodolphuls put up anti-apparition and anti-magic detection wards. I created two popping sounds and removed concealment charms from Pettigrew and Black.
"How could you betray James, Sirius?!" screamed Pettigrew.
"Death to the mudbloods!" shouted Black.
Screaming more suchlike drivel, they began throwing nonverbal cutting and blasting curses at each other. The muggles were taking stray hits.
Black activated the amulets with his free hand to make it look like the shields were his doing. The muggles panicked, so I made Black use an area stunner. Half of the muggles froze. Once more, and only the two wizards were left moving.
"Toturnull!" Black's curse hit Pettigrew's wand arm, vanishing its bones. It was quickly followed by a stunner and an Imperio (just an empty word).
Everything had to look convincing. Black blocked the door and proceeded to cut stunned muggles with the ritual knife at five pentagram corners. He frantically tried to throw off the Imperius but on the outside kept ranting about pathetic blood traitor James and how happy he was to no longer have to pretend to be a muggle lover. And about Pettigrew's great honor to become a human bomb that will destroy Dumbledore, earning the Dark Lord's favor.
This ritual really existed: a strong Dark wizard placed another wizard-sacrifice into the center of a blood pentagram, surrounded by live and dead muggles. After the spell, all the muggles would die, and the caster would gain the ability to make the wizard in the center explode at will, regardless of distance. The "bomb" was easily delivered under Imperius. Naturally, Voldemort had already tried it multiple times. It didn't work on Albus or Moody. But this time I had no intention of finishing it.
This ritual had two very useful qualities. It devoured an incredible amount of the caster's energy and emitted so much dark magic that no one in their right mind would conduct it outside a permanently shielded area, risking a meeting with the entire force of the DMLE. As long as Bella held the ward no one on the outside knew.
But the muggle witnesses couldn't see Bella - only two amulets floating in the air. Suddenly, one of the amulets began to change in color and make squeaking sounds. Black turned and attempted to stabilize it- or else the Aurors would interrupt his work.
Black was under so much strain that Pettigrew broke free from Black's Imperius (which was never there) and stunner (which I dispelled). With Black distracted, Pettigrew ripped out a steel construction rod from a muggle nailed to the floor and heroically stabbed Black through the throat. Black collapsed.
Of course, the wound was not fatal. I made sure Black did not lose too much blood. Peter dropped the rod and snatched Black's wand. As Black tried to cast something wandlessly (a ball of light in his hand from me), Pettigrew put everything he had into one final blasting curse. I sped up my perception, shielding myself, Pettigrew, and several muggles. The Lestranges put up their own.
"Re.." Peter began.
Black was instantly swapped with a replica made with his blood. Nothing but a useless statue, but it will pass the identity test. The real Black, stunned and transfigured, went into my pocket.
"...ducto!"-finished Peter.
The explosion was spectacular. Fake Black got reduced to ground meat. His blood covered the walls, his finger flew somewhere across the room. Half of the muggles were also minced to pieces. The few survivors had heavy injuries. The blast hole went down through three floors. The brave Peter Pettigrew went into shock from a concussion and a broken leg, so I had to take him under complete control.
The Lestranges took down their shields and left unharmed. Peter continued playing the hero: he summoned the Aurors and the Order, then healed one of the muggles before throwing up on the brink of magical exhaustion. Realizing he could not provide any more help, he apparated. Not to St. Mungo's but to an on-duty member of the Order. He'll soon be peddling his story to the old man, who will notice signs of Dark curses from "Black"... Healing Peter would take at least 2 hours alone, unless Abus was feeling generous with Phoenix tears... But even then, he will have to spend time talking to Peter, checking his memories and consoling him.
I apparated away. There would be no evidence- dark magic from the amulets overwhelmed all other magical traces. After several apparitions, I arrived at the Lestrange manor.
It has always reminded me of The Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. I was greeted by the entire family: Edward, the Lestrange patriarch, Rodolphus' and Rabastan's father, Tom's classmate and one of the first death eaters; Rodolphus and Rabastan - brothers, death eaters. And my favorite - Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, Rodolphus' wife and the most devoted death eater. I could relax around them. Back in his youth, Tom helped them break a family curse and later saved Rabastan's life. They were one of the rare few in my organization who could be trusted.
"My Lord, will you be staying?" - asked Bellatrix.
Lord Voldemort was obsessed with power and immortality. But not money. He wore transfigured clothes and lived at his servants' manors. Mostly the Lestranges'.
"Not now," I replied. "Here is Sirius Black. Put him into your most secure cell and grow him a new ear and finger. Keep in mind that he is an animagus. He must not have an opportunity to commit suicide."
"Little Siri is an animagus? We'll find him a cozy cage!" Bellatrix didn't even acknowledge their blood relation. We walked down to the dungeons, and very soon a large black dog was locked in his new cell, wearing a magic-blocking collar, asleep under the Draught of the Living Death.
"Isn't the security a bit too much?" asked the edest Lestrange. He was Tom's friend and remained one of the few people who could speak to him like this.
"You are right, my friend. Add wards against house elves and something of your own. Maybe golem guards for constant surveillance. Don't go inside. I will not risk the Black fortune and Wormtail's cover in Dumbledore's ranks. Maximum security."
"Any more orders?" asked Rodolphus.
"Yes. I need two houses, permanently. Each warded and under Fidelius. And two house elves. Also, prepare a ritual room to raise three liches and one white zombie."
Nobody around here batted an eye at playing with the dead. The dungeons were often used for creating zombies and inferi from muggles and unlucky enemies. Once in a while we even made magic-using corpses - liches. It was houses and house elves that went against Voldemort's MO.
"Have you decided to settle down, my Lord?" Edward asked.
"Yes," I refused to elaborate.
"Do you wish to gather all your servants, my Lord?" chimed in Bellatrix. "Everyone needs to know the Potters have been defeated by your hand!"
"Later, Bella. I will go to the Longbottoms before Samhain is over."
"Allow me to accompany you, Master!" she pleaded.
"I will take care of it myself. If you want to be useful, go do what I just ordered."
I walked out of the manor to the edge of the wards and apparated to the Longbottoms. Their secret keeper wasn't a traitor like Wormtail, but he still spilled everything under torture; by that time, his body was not even good enough for an inferus.
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