December 22, 1994
Once the two were gone, the first thing Voldemort did was head straight for his bathroom. §Come, Nagini, let us prepare for bed. It has been a long day.§
Over the past couple months, he had Barty renovate the place, bringing it up to its former glory. While the outside still resembled an abandoned mansion, the inside was completely repaired and updated with current plumbing. Still, now that he had a proper body, he could access Slytherin's Castle where he and his Death Eaters would be more protected.
§Is your new form to your liking, Master?§ Nagini asked as they arrived in the bathroom.
§I shall see,§ he replied and gazed at the mirror, almost entranced by his own image, an image that he had not seen in over a couple decades. He had refused to look at himself while trapped in the horrid golem's body, but this...what he was looking at was beyond expectations. By using his own ashes, he'd regain his former beauty, and the special runes inscribed on the bones and on Aster's flesh...
Suddenly, a stab of pain in his magical core took him by surprise.
A young girl, bleeding and crying on the dungeon floor...bound and gagged...
The image flashed across his mind and Voldemort had to brace a hand against the mirror.
§What is wrong, Master!§ Nagini hissed, alarmed by her master's pain.
Snarling in anger, Voldemort forcefully locked those images and emotions behind strong occlumency shields. §Nothing of import, my Lovely,§ he hissed back and let out a shuddering breath.
Nagini didn't look convinced, but he ignored her in favor of studying his new body in the mirror. So with the special runes, he had gained a couple of inches of height putting him at an intimidating 6'4". And he wasn't left gangly either, thanks to the Dursley boy's natural bulk. Instead, his shoulders were broad, his frame strong and sturdy without looking grotesquely muscular. He was also apparently young enough not to have too much white hair, just a few wisps above his temple, leaving him looking distinguished. A quick grooming charm evened out the locks.
The rest of his body was equally impressive. He was stronger, even stronger than a normal wizard, but not overly muscular. He liked the paleness of his skin and would not alter that. Finally, pleased with the results, Voldemort had the tub filled with hot water and sunk luxuriously into it. He let the comforting heat seep deep into his new bones and sighed hedonistically. His first bath in years and it was even better than he remembered it!
Nagini also enjoyed the hot steam wafting her way and soon she was lulled into a light doze.
Just for this decadence alone, Voldemort would reward Barty and Severus very well...he might even toss in a blanket for the girl...
...the girl who was no doubt shivering, her extremities turning numb and blue...hypothermia exacerbated by blood loss was not a pleasant way to go...
Voldemort jerked out of the vision, splashing water out of the tub. Nagini hissed, also agitated. "No!" he scolded himself before the chaotic emotions could bubble up and breakthrough his occlumency shields again. He would have to do something with all these pesky and annoying emotions. Obviously, Marvolo had grown weak over the years, allowing himself to actually care for the girl. It was utterly ridiculous.
§Master, you are troubled,§ Nagini said, sounding annoyed. §It is disturbing my rest.§
§It is the horcrux I absorbed,§ Voldemort explained through gritting teeth. §It doesn't agree with me.§
Nagini nodded knowingly. §Ah, it is like swallowing fetid meat. Can you not simply regurgitate it?§
Voldemort chuckled hollowly. §If it were only that simple, my Lovely§ he replied. He had managed to interrupt the merging process with his pathetic soul piece as quickly as he could before he became infected with Marvolo's emotions. As it is, they were already too intermingled for his comfort. §But I will have it under control in due time. Forgive me for disturbing your rest.§
Nagini hissed wordlessly, still agitated and decided to leave. Voldemort watched her slither away, knowing she was feeling echoes of his internal conflict with Marvolo down their horcrux link. It was probably best that she go somewhere else until he could smother Marvolo into dormancy or at least properly contain him. He wanted none of Marvolo's affections to stain his own icy soul.
Thoughts of Marvolo and Aster Potter turned what should have been a very enjoyable bath into something not so enjoyable. In fact, it was working him up into a state of agitation. Giving up, he rose from the tub, dripping water off his body as he stepped out...
Drip...
Drip...Drip...
Dripping like the blood from the child...red splatters on white bone...the girl had been so pleased to serve him, and what did he do to reward such devotion...
"Shut up!" Voldemort grabbed his own hair tightly. "My decision is made and her fate is sealed," he snarled loudly, trying to drown out the demanding voices clamoring inside his head. He vanished the dripping water and not bothering with any clothes, he slipped between the cool silk sheets, willing each of his muscle groups to relax.
But the moment he closed his eyes...
Images...this time not of the girl he had locked in the dungeon. No, these were different, and they bubbled up sluggishly, but insistently and unstoppable like a river of lava. These ones, Voldemort was not familiar with. They were random images of himself doing muggle chores, gardening with his much too small hands under the blistering heat of the summer sun, himself begging for food, and hunger pains tearing up his stomach. Echoes of people yelling at him, calling him worthless, a freak, a burden...And then suddenly the vertigo of being picked up and tossed into a tiny cramped space. Voldemort had never felt claustrophobic before, but crouching in complete darkness with unseen things crawling over his skin....he had a horrible suspicion that it was spiders or cockroaches.
Pressing the heel of his palm over his eyes, Voldemort sat up. "It must be Marvolo's memories," he realized but knew that wasn't quite right. They were Marvolo's memories of Aster Potter before the separation in Aster's second year. When he first looked into the girl's mind, he hadn't gone into too much detail. There wasn't enough time to do so, so he only looked for the girl's true loyalties.
Marvolo's soul was being annoyingly persistent, for being such a small part of him. It was hammering at his occlumency shields as if it was Marvolo who had been locked down in the dungeons. Try as he might, Voldemort couldn't just ignore a part of himself. Finally admitting defeat, at least privately, he knew if he didn't do something, his own traitorous soul would never let him rest.
"I'll make you a deal," Voldemort said aloud, despite having no audience but himself. "If the girl survives the night, then I will ensure her passing be as painless as possible." He would not allow the weakest parts of his soul dictate his actions. He absolutely refused.
This only seemed to enrage Marvolo even more. He suddenly churned with unholy fury, sending shock waves of pain throughout Voldemort's new body. Marvolo wanted Aster back with them, and would not relent until the teen was back in their bed! Damn it!
"Silence! Or I will cut you out again. Insanity be damned," Voldemort snarled. The threat must have worked because the raging emotion had quieted. Voldemort sighed in relief, but he knew that small part of him was still seething quietly.
O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O
It wasn't the cold of the dungeons that woke Aster up. Her body was so chilled, that she no longer felt the cold or even the grating stone of the dungeon floor against her bare skin. No, it was the flash of pain through her scar. Aster groaned and curled up tighter until she could press her knee against her forehead in a fruitless attempt to alleviate the pain. The only time Aster ever felt like this was when Marvolo forcefully entered her mind or when Aster accidentally shared a vision with Marvolo.
Somewhere, somehow, Marvolo was raving mad, and Aster giggled a little insanely. "Give Him hell for me," she rasped.
It was then she realized she could hear herself again, which meant the silencing charm had faded!
Another flash of pain hit her in the head and it suddenly dawned on Aster that maybe Marvolo was trying to contact her. The tiny spark of hope was like a powerful pepper-up, rejuvenating her. Aster quickly dropped all her occlumency shields, waiting for some sign or something from Marvolo. A few minutes later, there was another blast of pain to her scar, more painful than before because her shields were down, but alas Aster couldn't sense her friend anywhere.
The crushing wave of disappointment was almost as bad as when Voldemort first abandoned her here. Aster's only comfort was knowing that Marvolo was somewhere still fighting, and that meant Aster couldn't just give up either. Marvolo certainly wouldn't approve of Aster dying such an ignoble death as exsanguination or hypothermia.
And then there was Severus.
Aster could already hear him snarling. "Bleeding to death is no excuse for such laziness, Potter! Where is that lauded Gryffindor bravery and bullheaded stubbornness! Pick yourself up and think!"
Aster grumbled and pushed herself to a sitting position, a slow process since she was still bound and all her wounds were still leaking sluggishly. It seemed the coldness of the dungeon was actually helping to keep her from bleeding to death.
"Okay, think," Aster said out loud if only to hear more than that infernal dripping in the back corner.
Naturally, the first thing she needed was access to her magic. While her core was flaring and whipping up a frenzy inside, the magic suppressors in here prevented her from releasing all that pent-up energy. Aster only knew a couple of ways magic could be suppressed. The first was through a magical object, like shackles or some kind of device. Aster literally wore nothing besides the magical ropes that bound her, and the only other thing in here was the bars of the dungeon door. Aster didn't even have a bowl of water.
Another method was through blood magic, but Aster ruled that out first because she knew no blood arts were cast on her since the ritual. The last method was through specially prepared runes, the kind that could bind demons and ward off certain dark creatures. Aster quickly rolled to her knees, wincing as she did so, and began the painstaking process of looking for the rune, both with her physical and magical senses.
It could have taken minutes or hours, but Aster finally found it, in the south end of her cell. It was inscribed into one of the bricks, magically protected from physical or magical tampering. Aster scratched at it anyway in sheer desperation, and only managed to tear a nail for her troubles, not that she could feel it. Her hands and feet were numbed long ago.
Well, there went that idea. She slumped against the wall, on the cliff edge of despair. She was just so tired...but a small flash of pain in her scar, weaker than before, wouldn't let her give up. Just let me go, Marvolo, Aster pleaded silently. Please. Another flash hit her as if to berate her, and Aster huffed in frustration.
"Fine, fine! Pushy bastard," she muttered back and started reanalyzing her situation. So the only thing she had to work with was this rune, her own blood puddling and congealing on the floor, that infernal dripping, and that burning sconce outside her cell, giving her the only source of light.
Staring at the flickering fire, inspiration came like a flick of a switch. The solution was so simple that it was no surprise Voldemort had overlooked it in his arrogance. While the rune of suppression could affect Aster's magic, it didn't have the power or range to affect Nature's magic. Aster quickly repositioned herself, making sure her posture was straight before opening her mouth, and began Calling with a song she hadn't sung since the first magical night at Newgrange.
Her voice echoed richly against the dungeon walls, helping her reach the notes that she otherwise couldn't have. The first to come was Terra, followed by Triton, and then Hestia grew forth from the sconce to join her, and finally, Aria materialized literally from thin air. The four sprites hovered worriedly around her, and Aster smiled widely. She was so happy and relieved to see them that she felt drunk on success.
"Merlin, am I glad to see you guys," Aster began and got straight to work. "Terra, there is a rune of suppression here, inside the brick, I think. Can you get started on that?"
Terra's pebbly form churned in indignation before literally merging into the stone bricks of the dungeon. Meanwhile, without having been asked, Triton got to work on Aster's wounds. The Water sprite couldn't return Aster's lost blood to her or even heal her, but he could keep more of that precious blood from leaking out. Hestia and Aria huddled closely, blowing warm air against Aster's chilled skin, and slowly Aster could feel herself thawing out.
It took a while for Terra to get past the anti-tampering wards around the rune, but she finally managed it. Aster had almost dozed into a light sleep when her magical core suddenly exploded, upon the destruction of the rune. A scream ripped from her throat just before she was completely engulfed in the blackest of flames, and she disappeared, leaving a charred and ruined dungeon behind her.
O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O
December 22
Hogwarts
The last several days were not pleasant for one Albus W.P.B. Dumbledore. Instead of enjoying the festivities and reaping the glory for hosting the Triwizard Tournament, he was forced to deal with a horrified and angry populace when word finally got out about the Dursleys' abuse of their savior. And with Amelia Bones spearheading the investigation herself, there was no chance for Albus to bury the mess or tamper with memories.
So the Dursleys were picked up one day after Christmas and the Wizengamot put a rush in for the hearing despite being right in the middle of the holidays. Under the litany of offenses, it would prove to be even bigger than Sirius Black's trial. Andromeda had been right about this...the wizarding world would never suffer a magical child to be abused, let alone by a mere muggle. In their world, where families typically only had one or two children, child abuse was practically unheard of.
And Albus had to admit, after hearing their angry and hateful testimony, the abuse and neglect had gone beyond what he approved of. Part of him was still reeling at the fact that people could harbor such resentment and hatred as to treat their own flesh and blood so cruelly. Needless to say, it was a unanimous vote to send the muggles to Azkaban, even though that wasn't the typical punishment for muggles.
But the public uproar, shortly after Aster Potter's abduction, was what truly made this week and the future weeks practically unbearable. There was even talk of bringing him under custody on the charges of criminal neglect. He was reasonably certain that he could get away with a few bribes and a fine, but it was the talks of kicking him out of the Wizengamot or his Headmastership that really worried him.
Rita Skeeter had taken devilish delight in painting him as a senile old fool.
Parents were owling him day and night, sending howlers, demanding that he keep their children safe. Even his own employees were looking at him doubtfully. He was so used to his staff practically worshipping the ground he walked on that it was a big blow to his ego. What he needed was to recover Aster Potter, and in doing so his reputation for being Aster's protector and caretaker would be restored.
If only he knew where that blasted girl disappeared to...
None of his tracking charms were effective anymore. The girl had completely changed her wardrobe and with Severus fixing her eyes permanently, the trackers on her glasses were also gone. Furthermore, no one had come forward with any useful information. But for 10,000 galleons, there sure were a lot of false sightings. Some even said they saw Aster Potter all the way in Greece.
Most disappointing though was that Severus, the man he relied on for all things Dark, was coming back empty-handed over and over again. None of his contacts were panning out, and when Albus showed his displeasure, Severus simply claimed that many of them stopped talking to him after he grew closer to the Girl-Who-Lived. That was, unfortunately true, and he was feeling the lack of information sorely.
O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O o 0 O 0 o O
Dumbledore was not the only one furious at how a certain Gryffindor managed to slip so deftly out of his grasp. The first thing Voldemort did upon waking up from his very disturbed sleep---thanks to his own traitorous soul---was to go down and renew the sanguinous curse on his prisoner. Expecting to find the teen already half-dead, he literally stumbled to a stop upon seeing the entire dungeon level charred in black ashes. Foregoing the arduous walk through the dungeon maze, Voldemort apparated directly into Potter's cell only to confirm what he instinctively knew.
The bars were blown open like some muggle bomb had detonated inside, and the epicenter of the blast seemed to be near where the rune of suppression was hidden. Despite himself, Voldemort couldn't help but be impressed at the girl's cleverness. He had many Auror level wizards locked in here once upon a time, and none of them had figured out how he suppressed their magic, even wandless magic. And yet, the girl not only figured out the secret, but also managed to destroy it too!
He stepped into the cell cautiously, ignoring the how Potter's residual magic lashed out at him, and cast a few diagnostic charms, used by Aurors on the field.
Animagus Magic
Elemental Magic
Runic Magic
Voldemort ignored the runic magic, since it came from his own suppression rune. It was the first two that fascinated him. He couldn't recall offhand the girl mastering any animagus form or elemental magic. He turned inward, forcing Marvolo to give up all his memories of the girl. His pathetic soul fragment put up a fight, but it was weakening, having waged a mental battle against him all night. Voldemort sneered at the care and coddling his soul fragment bestowed upon the girl. It absolutely disgusted him, that any part of him was capable of such sentimentality.
Pushing aside those useless memories, Voldemort hunted for information on the girl's training sessions. Voldemort frowned. He found himself highly disturbed at how fast and natural the girl was at mastering dark magic. It seemed his soul fragment only needed to give the girl a theoretical foundation, from which Potter seemed to have an instinctual understanding of how to apply it in the practical sense.
If the girl was allowed to keep flourishing at this rate, Voldemort knew he could have serious competition for the title of Dark Lord. It was also why Dumbledore had kept the girl so ignorant and dependent because if Aster chose the path of the Light, she could just as likely overthrow Dumbledore from his lofty thrown too.
And yet within these memories, Voldemort could not find any information on how Potter could possibly escape this cell. "Marvolo...!" Voldemort snarled, suddenly understanding that his own soul pieces had somehow removed those particular memories from itself before the ritual. And if the traitorous Horcrux hid these memories, Merlin only knew what other memories his traitorous soul hid from him. "What have you done!"
Voldemort's only answer was a self-satisfied cackling in the back of his mind that sent shivers down his spine.