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Weapon	By : uqui Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 105432 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 26
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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02/01/2012

Thank you to SuryaPrakash for the betaing. If there are mistakes, they are my fault.

Thank you for the review and the ratings :) I love both so don't feel shy and review. Just a few words is great!

Weapon LVII - After the Express

Narcissa awoke with a start, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding and she felt cold as the sheen of sweat covering her cooled. It made her feel uncomfortably sticky.

She'd had another dream. She hadn't had one since she'd shown Draco what she really was, what he really was, though there had been a sense that things were working out. While he hadn't yet managed to master his full power, that was a matter of time. He had been able to manifest his wings but only for short periods so things were on schedule. She didn't plan for him to take on the Dark Lord yet, not without her help, but he would have to be powerful enough to take on the lesser. Powerful enough to recruit the next generation.

But all of that had nothing to do with her dream. As with her previous dreams, everything had begun well. Draco had done his job and was gathering support and some of the Dark Lord's servants had turned against him, spying for them before the final battle when they'd come to stand with her forces, swearing allegiance to her son.

In the final battle, they'd gathered their forces to challenge the Dark Lord. She'd taken some insurance from her memories of her previous dream and placed a special charm on herself and her son, a special charm her mother had taught her. It was something the Dark Lord had asked her about, had asked all his Death Eater's about, anything that might be used in his quest for immortality. She'd never mentioned this to him because it was something that was very specific and unlikely to suit him. It was a charm that protected them, it ensured that they could only be killed by one of the blood and it only worked because they were of the blood. That's why she'd never mentioned it to the Serpent Lord because he was not of the blood.

The final battle had been long and fierce but that had been expected. They'd had to fight their way through many waves of dark creatures who had given their loyalty to the Dark Lord and most had been slaughtered but it had cost them some of their forces, nothing that was dangerous to their chances, but it had been annoying and had taken time.

Draco had risen then, harnessing his full power and had challenged the Dark Lord and they'd battled, but the Lord's experience had been telling. Her son's power was great and while he held out against the Dark Lord, the experience was telling. Though despite the experience, since he was not of the blood, they were safe. Somehow though the Dark Lord had known about the charm and he had laughed, pausing in battle to question her son.

Draco had been confused and she had stepped forward to fight then and the Dark Lord had laughed again. He'd looked at her, his red eyes calculating and at the same time disappointed. "You should have come to me, Narcissa. I would have forgiven almost anything, if you'd have just come to me. Now though," the Dark Lord's voice was genuinely regretful, "I presume you've cast the Blood Protection charm on yourself."

"You can't kill us," she'd said. "You are not of the blood."

"Actually," Voldemort had smiled in her dream, gathering power in his hands before he'd flung it at her and Draco. "I am."

And that was the point she'd woken up, as the power had burned its way into her, ripping into her body, causing pain something that should not have been possible in a dream.

She reached out to take the glass of water that was always beside her bed and took a sip. The ritual calmed her somewhat as she committed the dream to memory. Most dreams were just that, dreams, but she knew the value of her dreams; they were almost always a warning or a confirmation and she had learnt to take heed. Her previous dream had lead her to cast the Blood Protection charm and now her dream had changed, warning her that the charm would not be enough. There had been a change though. In this dream there was no tenshi present behind the Serpent Lord, so the charm had made some changes.

This time though the Serpent Lord had indicated he was of the blood. In the strictest sense, all wizards were of the blood, but countless generations had diluted their blood until it was a pointless exercise to trace the lineages back to their tenshi connections because the power of the blood had been bred out. The only remaining trace to a tenshi was the ability to use magic. But what the Serpent Lord had done in her dream was something else. He had claimed to be of the blood and his power, burning into her had reinforced that claim in more than just a theoretical manner.

With the tenshi previously in her dream absent did that mean that the Serpent Lord had taken their power? The Serpent Lord had used various ceremonies to not only reconstruct his body but also to reinforce and develop his power. Some of those ceremonies were dependent on blood so if the Serpent Lord had access to and used a tenshi's blood then that was the only way she could think of for him to be able to make that claim. Even for one conversant with the Dark Arts and who had agents always on the lookout for powerful or useful items, tenshi blood was an impossibility. Her mother had told her once, if not a thousand times that every tenshi had destroyed all physical traces of themselves centuries back. Which only left the possibility of a tenshi giving him blood, but none of them had an interest in the wizarding world and none of them would help one who could potentially affect the world of magic... Ollivander had said as much. So there was no way for the Dark Lord to actually be of the blood, not literally.

Unless... was the dream was more abstract? It could mean that he was not of the blood but had the power of one.

Narcissa blinked as she considered that. She hadn't actually died in her dream but had instead woken because of the pain so the Blood Protection Charm may still be working in the dream. After all, she remembered ruefully, the charm only meant you couldn't be killed, not that you couldn't be tortured or injured. So the possibility existed that he could match her power and in matching her power could cause her great pain while never being able to land the killing blow.

If that was the case... Narcissa shuddered, considering the years of torture she knew the Dark Lord would inflict upon her if he could. If that was the case and he had the power to match her then perhaps she shouldn't let Draco take the Serpent Lord on. The battle would cement his claim to the title of Dark Lord and would ensure his followers, but perhaps they would be better served foregoing the theatrics of taking him down in open combat. Perhaps they would be better served by removing the Serpent Lord any way they could and cultivating followers separately.

The only problem with that was the only way she could see to get close to the Dark Lord was not an option. If she revealed her true form and was magnanimously lucky then she might be able to get close enough to the Serpent Lord to strike him down but that was not a sure thing. While she had no doubt the knife would penetrate, she wasn't certain that even a heart stroke would be enough to finish him. And even if it was, it was unlikely to be instantaneous and he would use the time to gather his power for a final strike. Even assuming that it all went well, she would be cut down by his loyal Death Eaters before she could escape because this was one thing where she couldn't just strike and hope that the reaction was what she wanted. She would have to wait until he was dead and then to be safe, she would have to destroy the body. The other alternative that was available with going to him was to fight him, wizard versus witch. She could stand up to him. Her full power would be enough to fight equally with him and that would eliminate the need to get physically close enough to him. But she would be at a disadvantage due to the Death Eaters. There was no way that the Dark Lord would be arrogant enough to accept a one to one dual... and even if he was, she wouldn't put it past his loyal followers to strike at her. Victory, after all, went to the one who won, not to the one who had honour. So while she might be able to get physically close enough to fight him in a dual, it wasn't an option.

And that only left longer range possibilities. Poison was unlikely to work, even assuming they could get it into either his food or the environment. He was immune to most and those he wasn't immune to could be purged via a simple transformation into his animagus form as the purely internal magical transformation cleansed both blood and organs. She could hire a magical assassin but the price of that was ruinously high, even if she could find one that was willing to take a shot at the Dark Lord or willing to die for that shot and even if the shot was taken, she knew the Dark Lord had insurances against that. She and her son could even support the Light to help them fight him but in that path lay their doom. The instant Lucius had begun to move, they could no longer support the Light, even if they could somehow convince those forces that they were loyal. No while that path may take out the Dark Lord, it also meant the end of Draco's chances to rule. Some things could not be sacrificed.

Narcissa shook her head. No matter what her dream meant, or what secrets would come out, both she and Draco needed to be both more powerful and more skilful. They needed to take advantage of every opportunity and remember that they were not Gryffindor, they were Slytherin and victory went to those who WON the battle and they would have to use any means necessary to achieve that victory. She would find a way to give her son that victory... one way or another.

Harry sat in the Great Hall, nibbling on a piece of toast. He'd always been accustomed to waking up early and his training over the summer just reinforced that so he wasn't surprised that the others in the dorm just slumbered on. He'd actually been comforted by it when he got up and rummaged in his chest for some clothes. It had only been one night but already the dorm was back to its usual messy self. He'd missed it - the general companionship and the noises of others sleeping soundly. He hoped they'd follow him when it was time to choose, though if he could, he intended to rather selfishly take their choice away. Ron and Neville would have to consciously side with him, the others would probably just go with the flow.

He'd slipped out, letting them sleep and had headed down to the Quidditch pitch. He needed to do his exercises as well as stretch out his magic a little and he could do both while flying, though not in his animagus form, but on his Firebolt. He didn't want the others to know his form this early. It had been a simple thing to slip past the vampire who was on guard. The shadows had merely wrapped around him, hiding him from the senses and he'd walked out carrying his broom and with a happy shout. Once he reached the pitch he'd taken off, shooting straight up.

His hair was already messy and the hour and a half of flying and exercises hadn't done anything great for it, but Harry was at least clean. He'd had a quick shower at the changing room for the quidditch teams and then had slipped back into the castle. He had classes today.

After Voldemort's attack on the Hogwart's Express and the subsequent chaos, it had eventually been decided that classes today would be only for the Fifth Years and up, while the Fourth Years and below would have a free day that was filled with activities. The activities would be fun and were designed to calm them down, especially the Muggleborn students. The proper Welcoming Feast and Sorting would be held tonight.

A few students wandered into the Great Hall, and then there was a burst of noise as the First Years were lead in by some of the teachers. They would just scatter around the tables and Harry wondered idly if the first day of school mixing with their entire year level rather than being split into their Houses would lead to a different dynamic for them. He hoped so. Some of the divisions were rather silly.

Harry jumped slightly at the sound of his name being called and he turned towards the doors as his friends came into the hall.

"Oh thank goodness. We were worried, Harry," Hermione said by way of greeting.

"Good morning," Harry replied with a smile. "I woke up early," he added the explanation for their benefit.

Ron snorted. "You could have woken me."

"And have you miss out on your beauty sleep?"

Ginny and Hermione chuckled at that. Ron was not a morning person.

Ron flushed, his face turning almost the same colour as his hair and he had the grace to look chagrined. "You could have woken me," Neville said at last, diverting attention from Ron's embarrassment.

"I could have," Harry agreed, "but I only went flying; gotta practice for the quidditch season." The smirk was heard in his voice. That was something he had to do actually. He had to book time on the pitch so that they could hold try outs.

"Wake me next time," Ron said with force as the others laughed. The team was pretty much gone with the others graduating and they all knew that Ron had his sights set on the position of Keeper.

One of the Seventh Years came by then, bearing papers. "Our schedules," Hermione said happily, picking them up and shifting through them. "Wow, Harry!"

"I know, I know," he said, green eyes smiling at her.

"What the hell?" the question came from Ron as he snatched one of the parchments from Hermione. "What the hell is this Harry?"

"Ron," Harry said seriously, his tone of voice almost cold. It brought the rant the red haired boy was about to launch into to an end. Harry had been hoping that Ron wouldn't react like this but he'd expected it and he was going to head off the feelings of jealousy and inadequacy the other boy no doubt felt early. It would also help him deal with his OWN feeling of betrayal at his friends almost attack. "I will explain tonight."

The youngest male Weasley took a deep breath, obviously wanting to say more but with a firm motion he snapped his jaw closed. A very quick glance at Hermione showed her to be worried and after another calming breath Ron nodded. "Thank you Harry. I'm sure the explanation will be interesting." Despite the fact the words were snide, they were genuine. Ron was trying and for the sake of their friendship, he would wait before he made assumptions... or he'd try to wait.

"Have some breakfast then we can go to class."

"That in itself sucks," Ron grumbled, back to normal as he served himself a large breakfast.

Amelia downed an extra large dose of Pepper-up Potion. She was so tired that the usual steam from her ears was merely a whisper. First the Express, and then Azkaban. She was not as young as she had once been and the lack of sleep was telling, but there remained so much to be done.

They had managed to keep the news of Azkaban from the papers but she didn't know how much longer that would be the case. All the Express concerns had been put to the junior Aurors as the more senior members of the Department tried to get lists of everyone whom every prisoner might contact now that they were out. A significant portion of the Aurors were also trying to work out exactly what had happened.

"You need sleep."

Amelia didn't even look up as the Head Unspeakable sat down opposite her. "Unless you have a list or more information, Croaker, I really don't have time to chat."

The man chuckled. "I don't have a list, but I do have the time line of events... which I suppose is a kind of list."

"More good news," Madam Bones groaned. "Tell me the worst," she said breathily, sighing even as she spoke.

"Well, the Dementors defected, but that's blatantly obvious. They were the ones who did most of the dirty work though, subduing the Wardens while the Death Eaters rode over on the dinghy. I still don't know who took out the control room but it was one person whose magical signature isn't on file, even as an unknown. You-Know-Who spent quite a few hours on Azkaban. Doing what, we are not sure, but pretty much all of the prisoners left from the open court yard near the top. Port Keys were used extensively, but we have not been able to track their destination."

"So what you are telling me," the head of the DMLE said softly, "is that the attack on the Hogwart's Express was merely meant to be a diversion."

"One that worked spectacularly well," Croaker said with an odd smile.

Amelia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. While she would not call Croaker a friend, the two of them had worked together for years, she was aware of most of the Head Unspeakable's quirks. "So, the Dark Lord was on Azkaban for hours... doing what?"

"That I don't know," the robed man said. "But the astral and other instruments are very clear on that. He arrived at about sundown and remained in that courtyard until the Aurors arrived in force."

Amelia reached out her hand, shuffling through some papers to find a list that had been complied very early for her. It was a list of prisoners in Azkaban. She shoved it towards the Head Unspeakable. "If we assume that all the imprisoned Death Eaters returned to their Master, that still leaves us with twenty eight long term prisoners, three of which are vampires, who could be now serving him. I think we can assume at least one or two will betray him but that isn't something I want to rely upon."

"And the other prisoners?" Croaker asked. "Sixty short term and sixty medium term prisoners."

"Who knows? I would have thought if he was going to raid, he'd just take his followers, since the others are such a mixed bunch. There is no guarantee that any of them will follow him but he's taken them all."

"Probably for sacrifices. I hope."

"You hope they are sacrifices?"

Croaker looked tired. "Better dead than the alternative."

"The alternative? What aren't you telling me?" Amelia demanded.

Croaker looked around her office for a moment before he raised his wand, casting a small privacy ward. It covered only her desk and the immediate area around it, but she recognised the casting. It was a special ward used by the Unspeakables and was practically unbreakable. No one would hear what their Leader said for the moment.

"Do you know how Dementors reproduce?" He asked, with a sudden seriousness.

"No," Amelia frowned at the question. Her school days were long ago but she could remember her Care of Magical Creatures class on Dementors because it had been singularly short. Dementors were loathsome beings that most did not want to be near. They could not be kept as pets, and their only use was to guard the most dangerous, the most despicable prisoners the wizards had. How and what they fed upon was common knowledge and there was not much more to know. Their Defence against the Dark Art's class gave out more information than the Care of Magical Creatures one.

"When I became the Unspeakable Leader, Dementor reproduction was covered in the information pack. It's not a pleasant process."

"How?"

Croaker shuddered. "I won't go into all the gory details but for Dementors to reproduce they need magical victims. In summary, the soul is removed from the body, then a part of it is replaced. Yes," the Head Unspeakable answered Amelia's question before she even asked. "They can reverse their Kiss if they wish but for reproduction they only replace a tiny fraction of the soul in the body. After that, the victim's magic core is twisted as every last memory is extracted and various other tortures are performed. Then, at some point the last bit of the soul is removed. And that is what makes a new Dementor."

The DMLE Head groaned. "So... potentially one hundred and twenty new Dementors are being created as we speak?"

"Probably not all of the prisoners," Croaker said, not bothering to hide his own sigh. They were not in a good position. There was no point in pretending otherwise. "A few of the medium and short term prisoners probably have some skills he would want to use but yes, I fear that the Dementor population will go up shortly."

"Don't you have any good news?" Amelia said as the Unspeakable dispelled his privacy ward.

"The Prophet has no idea what has happened. The Quibbler has already sent a note saying they will hold off on publishing any detail about Azkaban until we give the okay."

"How the hell do they know already?"

"No idea," Croaker laughed. "Most wizards view that paper as rubbish but they do publish the unvarnished truth... as they see it. Don't be too comfortable though, Xenophilus wrote that he could only wait so long."

"I'll write to him," Amelia promised. She was truly grateful that she won't be dealing with the mess that would be caused by the news of the Azkaban break out today or tomorrow. In fact having The Quibbler break the story would probably be best. They wouldn't put a spin on the story that glorified the Ministry but instead they would merely report what had happened and provide warnings and advice on what should be done if any of the wizarding community encountered an escapee or a Dementor. And with what she had just been told, that information became far, far more important than every before. "I'll also have the advised procedures sent to them and a list of prisoners. I'd prefer them publish it over The Prophet anyway. At least I know Xeno won't change it. There is though, one last thing?"

"What is it?" Croaker asked as he rose.

Amelia looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I've seen Dementors destroyed before, is there an easier process?"

Croaker shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, not that I know of but I will have the Department check. If there is, we need to know about it now."

"I'd appreciate it."

"Get some sleep, Amelia," Croaker said as he left her office. "Don't make me pull Ministerial Rank on you to see that you rest."

"I'll go to bed soon," the head of the DMLE promised. "Or at least I will give orders that even if the Dark Lord himself is attacking that they aren't to wake me," she said the last with a small smile that was returned as the Leader of the Unspeakables left.

Amelia closed her eyes briefly. This wasn't going to be the first time she had such a conversation with the Head Unspeakable this year. Of that she was sure.

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