All characters belong to JKR - aka the real genius - or inspired by her.
And HUGE thanks to my dear beta, Aurora, for her hard work and precious help :) :) :)
“NO!” The female Death Eater yelled at the top of her lungs, “AVADA K…”
“STUPEFY!” Sirius roared, his wand swinging once more at their direction.
The woman’s scream instantly died in her throat. She stumbled backwards, her arm still stretched in her attempt of throwing the Death Curse. ‘Rab’ stared blindly at her, apparently too stunned to catch her fall.
Oblivious to the battle that was still raging around them, Sirius turned his gaze to the Death Eater who was holding his wounded arm in front of him. For a brief moment, their eyes locked, as though they understood each other perfectly. Sirius inhaled deeply, his heart was beating out of his chest. An invisible hand, the same that had hold ‘Rab’ back a minute ago, was now pressing down on Sirius’s arm. He lowered his wand, which suddenly seemed to weigh a ton.
“DO SOMETHING!” the Auror in Sirius was crying in his head, “or … at least … SAY something to HIM…”
Sirius’s mouth opened then closed in a heavy silence, hating the fact that words just failed him at such a crucial moment. It might be easier if he could perform Legilimency, he thought; but again, Sirius had never lowered himself to practice a dark art. In a flash, he remembered his younger brother, the only person who had once nicknamed him “Big Dog”. Then, Sirius had chosen to leave the house that he had never called home. He had turned his back to all those blood relatives he had never considered his family. Therefore, he reckoned he had no right to say anything now.
“SIRIUS!” someone shouted, “LOOK OUT!”
Sirius broke free of his trance as a stunning power pushed him a few feet backwards. A freezing wind started to swirl then revealed in its midst a tall, dark silhouette. Sirius managed back to his feet, staring like hypnotized, at the man who just apparated among them. He was certain he saw this man for the first time. Yet, Sirius knew and so did his friends, that their ultimate enemy had just materialized in front of them. They were now facing the Dark Lord himself.
With the fog slipping fearfully over his thick black robes, Voldemort stood immobile in the dim moonlight. He was one of those rare persons who got this innate gift for attracting everyone’s attention with his sole presence. Very slowly, he tossed his hood back, uncovering a face that looked so pale and emotionless it was merely human. His eyes were glinting like white-hot steel while he ran his gaze over the Aurors around him, as though he wished to burn them alive.
Like a well-trained aristocrat, Voldemort raised his hand then suddenly closed his fingers in a fist. The Aurors gasped, bewildered, as their wands broke with a snap in their hands. The Death Eaters instantly coiled with fear at the sound of the broken wands. They all rushed towards their master, kneeling hastily to kiss the hem of his robes. But, Voldemort, obviously unmoved by their devotion, had already turned his attention to Sirius, who was still standing in front of him.
“Blood traitor,” Voldemort accused icily, as he raised his wand. “CRUCIO!” He cried.
Sirius’s body was immediately doubled up with waves of unbearable pain. He crumpled to the ground, as his horrified friends were watching helplessly.
“So, here are the heroic Aurors the Ministry of Magic had sent against me,” Voldemort snarled. “Pitiful! You should have known that you are no match to Lord Voldemort. And now, Auror, you will die!”
The death sentence triggered a wild eruption in James’s mind. Suddenly, James could not take his eyes from the arm that was now rising to cast the Death Curse. He could definitely not let Voldemort execute his best friend without trying to prevent it. James only remembered catching Lily’s blazing gaze before he dashed forwards in an uncertain attempt to direct the Death Curse away from Sirius. Head first, he charged at Voldemort, knocking him off his feet. Both of them stumbled to the ground, while a tree nearby smashed into pieces under the full blast of the deflected curse.
Voldemort’s wrath was immediate. He hissed angrily and, with a wave of his hand, sent James flying in the air before crashing in a loud thud beside Sirius. Holding both of them at the tip of his wand, he came towards them, his face contorted by anger.
“What you have just done is very … unwise, silly boy!” Voldemort glared at James who did not step back. “Who are you? Give me your name before I punish you for this affront!”
“My Lord, his name is James Potter,” a Death Eater reported humbly to his master. “We have caught him earlier with the Mudblood who is standing over there.”
“I asked him a question!” Voldemort retorted severely. “Next time, Macnair, just shut your mouth unless I desire to ask your opinion!”
“Yes, master! Forgive me … my Lord, it won’t happen again,” the Death Eater babbled fearfully.
Voldemort’s gaze nonetheless followed the direction Macnair had pointed and fell on Lily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her, but finally turned back to the two Aurors standing in front of him.
“You two don’t look like you’re family,” a mirthless laugh pierced in his voice as he noticed how James’s raven hair contrasted with Sirius’s, “so I guess you are just … friends. And you, Potter, were ready to DIE for a friend?”
Actually, they looked very much alike, Voldemort silently reckoned. The same fire was burning in their stubborn eyes. They both had those clenched jaws that refused to scream with pain or answer questions.
Voldemort even knew for a fact that those two would rather die than betray each other. How silly! the Dark Lord shook his head and decided to get over what he refused to understand. So he carried on, as if he was lecturing in front of an attentive class. His voice echoed in the woods, feverish and cold at the same time.
“Death is the ultimate defeat of the soul,” he said despisingly. “I am above such shame and weakness! I alone have the power and courage to do what it takes to conquer Death. I alone will hold the greatness of Immortality. I am Lord Voldemort. Soon, even Death will fear to speak my name.
“And you,” Voldemort pointed an accusing finger to James and Sirius, “you only pretend to defend the wizarding world against dark arts; you act in the name of such foolish notions as ‘love’ and ‘friendship’. Those are just feeble excuses to dwell in your cowardice and hide your lack of vision. Your names will be long forgotten, whereas generations of wizards will keep worshipping mine. You two are a disgrace to our blood. You don’t deserve to live.”
The Death Eaters gasped in awe, hopeful to share the “greatness” their master had promised them. They gazed hungrily at James and Sirius, but had forgotten all about Lily and Anderson who were staring at the scene from a short distance.
Lily shivered at Voldemort’s poisonous words, her fingers tightened around the pieces of her broken wand. As she racked her mind for an escape plan, she barely realized that Anderson had come to stand beside her.
“I remember now,” the apprentice whispered, “Black told me he had alerted Moody before coming here to help you.”
“So, if Mad-Eye knows, then…” Lily said breathlessly, as hope coursed through her.
“Then, your other friends will be here soon,” Anderson concluded encouragingly.
“We have to give them more time…”
“Leave it to me! I have things I want to tell the Dark One anyway!” Anderson instantly waved off Lily’s silent warning. “He’s dangerous, I know. But, if we stand here doing nothing, you and I will be next on his execution list. Besides,” the apprentice winked at Lily before raising his voice, “I AM NOT AFRAID OF HIM!”
Anderson’s statement reached the Dark Lord and his followers, just as he had intended. The Death Eaters groaned, although they were still kneeling obediently on the muddy ground.
“Master, let me punish this insolent little jerk for you,” one of them offered.
Voldemort raised his hand to stop his servant. Of course, he could easily crush this boy on the spot, but it was also “appropriate” somehow to act like a noble Lord, as he pleased to call himself.
“I can take care of him myself!” he said. “Have you just said, boy, that you don’t fear Lord Voldemort?” he asked Anderson, a murderous gleam in his red eyes.
“You heard me right!” Anderson said loudly, stepping forwards so that the Dark Lord could see him well under the cloudy sky. “You said you could take care of me yourself? HA! That would be the first time, wouldn’t it?”
“The first time? What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know what your Death Eaters do in your name?”
“You are dying to break the news to me, I see. Then, go ahead!”
“Just one example: you have sent your cronies over my parents’ house,” Anderson informed him. “It took at least six of your Death Eaters to murder a couple of unarmed Healers. Yes, very brave of them, isn’t it? Did they learn it from you? Or are they too scared to realize that their master is not man enough to do the dirty job himself?”
Voldemort blemished. For a moment, he was struck speechless by so much impudence.
That’s it; take your time! Anderson thought, counting eagerly every second he could steal before help arrived. From the corner of his eyes, he saw James and Sirius take a step forward, frowning to dissuade him from finishing what he had started. Their sudden move caught Voldemort’s attention. Without warnings, the Dark Lord cast a Freezing Charm that trapped James and Sirius on the spot.
“Don’t you try anything stupid, silly girl!” Voldemort’s cold threat froze Lily on her track as she surged forward, “or I will kill them now, all of them!
“As for you, boy, you are absolutely right!” he continued towards Anderson. “Indeed, I don’t have to do the ‘dirty job’. I let my enemies take care of that part for me!”
Like polished actor, he paused, gauging the effect his words produced. Then, he pointed his wand at Anderson. “I won’t waste my magic skills on those two blood traitors. But, you will kill them for me. IMPERIO!”
Anderson’s features unwillingly relaxed under the effects of the curse. His eyes softened, and a weak smile distorted his lips.
“DANCE!” the Dark Lord ordered.
Anderson’s arms rose aloft, as his feet started having a quick twirl. His body followed, moving awkwardly to a soundless music that only he seemed to hear. The Death Eaters laughed; some of them applauded mockingly at the performance.
“Excellent! Now, say ‘I am Lord Voldemort’s servant’!” the Dark Lord commanded.
“I … am … Lord …” Anderson uttered breathlessly, his eyes fluttered shut in a keen effort to concentrate.
“Say ‘I am Lord Voldemort’s servant’!” Voldemort urged again.
“… I … am … Lord Voldemort …. s … s …”
“SAY IT! Let us all hear your praise of my power!”
“… Am … Lord … Vold… s … servant.”
“That will do!” Voldemort said at last. He stretched his left hand to summon a wand from his kneeling followers. “Now, come take this wand, and kill those worthless Aurors.”
Beads of perspiration started showing on Anderson’s forehead, mixing with the blood that kept dripping from his wound. His breathing grew heavy, as though he was running the last miles of a marathon. The Death Eaters were still cheering, but they no longer ignored their victim’s struggling against the Unforgivable.
“I SAID TAKE THE WAND AND KILL THEM!” Voldemort growled impatiently.
Anderson’s feet dreamily closed the short distance between him and Voldemort. The apprentice raised a trembling arm. His fingers slowly closed around the handed wand.
“NO!” Anderson suddenly cried, hurling the wand away with a look of total horror on his face. “NEVER!”
The triumphant smirk instantly died on Voldemort’s lips, so did the cheering of the Death Eaters. They all stared incredulously at the boy who had just managed to resist the Imperius Curse. There was no doubt he had suffered from the curse! Voldemort found a small comfort at the sight of his young victim. The boy looked indeed like a mess, holding his head with shaking hands as tears of exhaustion dripped on his cheeks. But, the fact that irritated him most was that he had never sensed any fear in this boy’s heart, nor in his companions’, while they were facing him.
From a distance came the unbearable sound of two hands clapping with derision. Voldemort glared at his Death Eaters. They, too, had heard the applause and were scanning at the area to locate the sound.
“Alastor Moody!” Voldemort hissed when his bloodshot eyes fell on the man who was edging fearlessly towards them. “The famous Auror! Finally, the Ministry sends someone worthy to deal with me!” Voldemort mocked.
“We meet at last, Voldemort!” Moody coolly replied, ignoring the Death Eaters’ wince at their master’s name. “Quite a show you have put up here,” his magical eye was wandering around the battlefield. “Though I must admit … I thought you have more style than that!”
“Style?” Voldemort blurted out. “What does style have to do with power?”
“Everything, dear Lord, everything!” Moody was clearly enjoying himself. “Style can make a chief a master. Style can force your enemy’s resentfulness into respect. Style is what will turn fame into legend. And style is definitely NOT using an Unforgivable to make a fourteen year old apprentice murder his wandless teammates.”
Judging by Voldemort’s silence, Moody knew he had put all the right buttons. Although lecturing about “style” in magic was very far from his operations standards, Moody had followed his instinct by avoiding an open battle. Four members of his team were presently in mortal danger, and he could feel the Death Eaters’ eagerness to prove themselves to their master. Moody’s natural eye glanced at them. It would be suicidal if he so much as rushed a hand to his pocket. In Moody’s opinion, the best strategy he could choose was to deal with Voldemort himself and, to be more precise, to play on his secret thirst for recognition.
In the meantime, Voldemort’s mind was sizzling with conflicting thoughts. It would be so easy to prove his power to Moody by killing his men now. However, the legendary Auror’s speech had undoubtedly touched the right chord. For Merlin sake, he was Lord Voldemort, the rightful and worthy heir of Salazar Slytherin! From an unwanted orphan, he had come a long way to achieve greatness. He will become the “legend” Moody had mentioned, and his reign needed to be nothing less than flawless. Therefore, if “style” and other niceties were what he needed to take over the respect he deserved, than he would gladly oblige. His eyes started glinting dangerously again as he turned to Moody.
“Your Aurors, including this boy, had fought and lost against my men,” Voldemort said. He had somehow made his decision about their fate, but did not want to give in too easily.
“They lost because YOU have broken their wands,” Moody replied, before levitating the broken wands in front of the Dark Lord’s nose. “None of your Death Eaters is skillful enough to cast this Severing Charm.”
“An accurate assessment that honors your brilliant reputation, Mr. Moody,” the Dark Lord smiled. “May I return the compliment by saying that none of your Aurors has your expertise in the field of magic?”
“Oh, they have, believe me!” Moody nodded knowingly. “However, they have also learned from Dumbledore that friendship and loyalty are much more powerful than dark arts. Blimey, that reminds me to have a word with old Albus as soon as he arrives about things he taught my Aurors.”
“Dumbledore is coming?” Voldemort’s voice fell down a notch.
“Must be on his way,” Moody added almost casually. “You know him … always keeps an attentive eye over every student of his!”
“Annoying habit, indeed!” snarled Voldemort, frowning.
It is much too soon to face Dumbledore, the Dark Lord’s little voice warned him. My Horcruxes are not ready; I am still short of two to reach the number of six as planned. Perhaps, once I’ve made one more then it would be dear old Albus’s turn. Yes, it would be absolutely “stylish” to kill one of the Hogwarts most reputable Headmasters for my final Horcrux!
Voldemort shivered with thrill at his new plan. Suddenly, the young Aurors he had captured no longer interested him. This confrontation was getting annoying, he thought. All he wanted now was to withdraw his marbles and go back to much more meaningful purposes.
“It would be pleasant to hear your little conversation. Unfortunately, I have more important business to attend,” Voldemort announced smugly. “However, please send my word to Professor Dumbledore. Tell him that he is dead wrong about the power of love, and he has definitely lost his touch in teaching. Your Aurors had better count on someone like you, Mr. Moody, to teach them how to defend themselves.” Then he gestured idly towards the young Aurors. “Those four children, you can take them back and complete their education. I would gladly defeat them again the future.”
“Me? A teacher? That is not likely! But, thanks for the advice; I’ll keep that in mind,” snorted Moody.
Thanks for reading :) Sorry for the wait ... I hope you liked it!
Hey, (almost) no cliffhanger in this chapter ;) Disappointing, isn't it??? ^_^