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Bonds of Servitude Ch. 23
🕑 Added 2024-09-05 18:38:26 +0000 UTCTom turned his head to the side, gazing up at the statuesque blonde who's piercing blue eyes were currently fixed on him.
“Yes?”
Apolline's face twitched ever so slightly. “My apologies. It's just… you're quite a strange creature.”
Nymphadora snorted. “Aren't we all? Come on, this is the place.”
It must have been quite a sight. A veela - for Apolline was far too striking for anyone to be confused as to her heritage - a stern looking old lady with a cane and a garden gnome walking together through the grimy streets of Knockturn Alley.
By now, of course, everyone was well aware of who this old lady and her tiny companion were, and they gave her plenty of latitude. No one wanted trouble with the
Boss Lady.
“Borgin and Burkes.” Tom read the sign aloud, voice tinged with the slightest hint of nostalgia.
“What, you used to be an intern here or something?” Tonks questioned.
“Something like that.”
The bell rang as the trio entered through the door.
The shop was just as Tom had left it all those decades ago. Dusty shelves stuffed with dark artifacts, interspersed with cheap junk that was likely broken beyond repair. Because that was the dirty little secret Borgin kept and Burke took to the grave: half the things in the store no longer worked, if they ever had at all. There were only so many pureblood families, and with their own private collections of banned objects, the occasional sale of something juicy that passed through their hands was not enough to keep the store afloat. No, it was the volume of useless junk mixed in with the legitimate dark objects that made the real money. Due to the shop's reputation, there were an abundance of fools who would walk in, see something within their price range and throw money at it. When it didn't work, or it broke, or even exploded, most chalked it up to the volatility of dark magic and moved on. Those who did think they'd been scammed quickly backed down once they realized just how many rich, influential figures backed the shop.
This was a different time now, though. Lucius Malfoy was dead. His power base was broken and the remaining lords were slowly turning into nothing but meek, feckless puppets.
“Yes, how may I help you?” To his credit, there was only a small flash of fear in old man Borgin's face before he schooled his features into a mask of professionalism.
“Hullo there, just browsing around.” Tonks said as she casually began touching a suit of armor. Tom walked around, eying items he recognized while surreptitiously dismantling all of Borgin's defensive wards and traps.
Apolline simply stood in the middle, arms clasped behind her back.
Borgin cleared his throat. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“Swords.” Tonks said. “Powerful swords. The more mythical the better.”
Borgin coughed. “I-I don't believe we carry many of those around. We have a few swords, but they're not exactly legendary.” He gestured towards the wall behind him, where a variety of swords were hung up on the wall, ranging from broadswords to scimitars and even a katana.
“They're all cursed, of course. A few are quite rare. This one-” he pointed at the katana, “Is one of five in the world. It is said to make its wielder unbeatable, but it slowly drains their life force. It is said that there are over a thousand souls trapped within it.”
“Pass.” Tonks said. “You really don't have anything else?”
Borgin couldn't keep the irritation from showing on his face. “What do you want, exactly? Excalibur?”
Tonks shot Apolline a thoughtful look. “That could be it, couldn't it?”
“I suppose.”
Borgin scoffed. “You're chasing fairy tales? Might as well look for the Elder Wand.”
Tonks shrugged dismissively. “Interested in a trade?”
Borgin's brow furrowed at the change in topic. “Trade?”
Tonks gave him a kindly old smile. “Yep. A trade. You get to keep your business intact. I won't ever bother you for anything, not even protection money. In exchange, my partner here gets to pick one item from the store and take it home with him.” She nodded towards Tom.
Borgin's eyes darted suspiciously between the two of them. This was a complete shakedown, but he was used to those. Whether it was the Dark Lord or Lucius Malfoy, or whoever else held the levers of power at the time, there had always been a bit of give and take in order to keep his business running. This new queen of the underworld was no different. There were many items in this store that he would be remiss to part with, and a few that would hurt him quite dearly. But, crucially, all that he most coveted, the things that he would not sell for any price, were all carefully hidden under several layers of protections. No one that was alive knew of them besides himself, and so, he was ultimately safe in the knowledge that he would not lose too much in the deal.
“That could work.” He said, holding his hand out. “As long as it is sworn by oath, of course.”
Tonks did not even flinch. She gave him a crooked smile, adding several layers of wrinkles to her leathery skin. “Of course. We're not savages.”
Tonks held her hand out and Borgin clasped it. They swore their oaths, and magic swirled around them, sealing the deal.
Borgin stepped back from his countertop, holding his hands up level with his face. “Well, go right ahead. One item.”
Tonks nodded towards Tom, who walked swiftly and with purpose. Borgin frowned when he went around the counter and brushed past him, into the back room.
He felt a slight sense of dread as the gnome disappeared behind the curtain, but he easily snuffed that out. He wouldn't find anything of real value back there. He didn't know where to look.
After a tense few minutes for him, where the old crone engaged the veela in stilted small talk in a clear attempt at needling him, the gnome emerged from the backroom.
At first, he'd thought the thing had returned empty-handed. But, upon further inspection, he noticed it. It was a small, leatherbound journal, old, plain and worn. There was no outward sign that it was anything special.
“What?! How?!!” Borgin spat.
“This caught my fancy.” Tom waved the journal in the air. Borgin had the urge to snatch it, to tackle the little monster and rip it from his hands.
Instead, the binding magic forced him to stand in place and watch as the smug old crone held her hand out and the gnome handed her the diary.
“Pleasure doing business with ya!” She tipped her hat to him as the trio walked out, the veela now sporting a bemused smile on her face.
“Well, that was quite entertaining. But, what exactly is that?”
“This, is a national treasure. Isn't it, Tommy?” Tonks slapped the book against the back of her hand.
“It is, mistress. This is the personal diary of a merchant from Lombardy, Francesco Riccardi, back in the thirteenth century.”
Apolline looked confused. “So it is a logbook? Transactions, financial records?”
Tom shook his head. “Riccardi was interested in history, and he tracked down several myths and legends of the time, including several mythical swords.”
He'd uncovered the book when he'd worked at Borgin and Burkes as a young man. Back then, it had only held a cursory interest for him, as he had seen no reason to learn the man's highly specific, archaic Italian dialect, especially since he'd dismissed the few passages he'd deciphered as nothing more than tall tales.
Now, though, as his perspective had shifted and expanded, he realized just how invaluable this journal was. There was a reason why Borgin had hoarded it for so long, not even thinking about putting it out for sale.
Tonks opened the journal, frowning as she tried to make sense of the words. “Bloody hell, I can't understand any of this. Can you?” She held it out to Apolline, who squinted as her eyes scanned the pages.
“It is quite impossible to decipher, no?”
Tonks tossed it to Tom, who snatched it and stashed it inside his cloak. “I will get right on it, mistress.”
She grinned. “You're the best, Tom.”
…
“Hey, Daphne. Did you do something to your hair?”
Daphne smiled as Parvati and Lavender looked her up and down, as if trying to suss out what exactly she'd done to herself.
She couldn't help it, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “No. Nothing new, at least. I guess I've just been having a good week.”
Lavender shook her head. “When you're ready to drop that skin care routine, let me know.”
Ever since that night where Harry first fucked Fleur, not that Daphne had connected her recent changes to that moment, she'd felt as if she'd fast-forwarded through puberty. Her boobs had gotten bigger, waist more pronounced, her hair glinting with a radiant shine even when she'd just gotten out of bed. Boys now stared at her in a very blatant manner.
Not that that last part mattered. Daphne was as madly in love with Harry as she always had. Perhaps even more so now, as she found that every time He even touched her, the sensation had been magnified.
It wasn't as bad as it was for Fleur, though. Throughout the past two weeks, the older blonde had taken Harry's cock as much, if not more, than anyone else. And yet, each time, without fail, she was on a hair trigger, incapable of building up any type of stamina.
It was a bit of a plus, since it meant that no matter how many times Fleur fucked Harry, she went off so quickly, the other girls could step in and have their own go.
And the circle of sex had been slowly growing with the addition of Gemma. Honestly, Daphne had the growing sense that, even if they tried to put a stop to it, the entire female population of the school would eventually fall to Harry's charm. Hell, if she really thought deeply about it, it might not end at the school…
“Hey Daph, come on, we're gonna be late for charms.” Susan snapped her fingers, pulling Daphne out of her reverie. “We can't give those idiots any opportunity to get back at us.”
After the dragon dung incident, Flint and his gang had been quiet. Of course, they were not stupid enough to think it was over, they knew that the boys were only biding their time, waiting for the right opportunity to strike at them. They also knew that after the humiliation they'd been subjected to, the gloves would be off.
Daphne followed after Susan as the two caught up with the others.
…
Professor Binn's classroom was, as always, filled with soft snores and steady breathing as most everyone was in varying stages of rest.
Most everyone, except for Fleur Delacour.
Fleur was on edge. She was tapping her foot, her fingers were twitching, and her eyes kept jumping to the clock, its constant ticking much louder to her than the ghostly professor's droning voice.
Fleur found herself in a bind. She needed to do her part. Her mother was out there, searching for the king's sword. Fleur was supposed to do what she could on the inside. Hogwarts was the most magically dense location in the British isles, perhaps even all of Europe, it would make sense that the sword had ended up in the castle somehow. Its walls held many secrets, and it was her job to uncover them in the search for the sword.
But she had not even gotten started.
How could she, when all she could think about was him? When all she craved was taking him inside of her and swimming in bliss?
If she could, Fleur would spend every waking moment within five inches of her king's cock. It was a miracle that she was as functional as she currently was, since every fiber of her being wanted to have her mouth or cunt attached to him.
She sighed. She really needed to get her head on straight. For the good of her king and her people, Fleur needed to be strong.
The bell rang and she sprang to her feet.
She would be strong later. Right now, she knew her king had a free period, and they'd already said where they'd be this morning.
She practically sprinted towards their ‘headquarters’. They were all sitting around a table, playing gobstones while Harry was sitting on a big chair behind a desk with a redhead on his lap. The first year girls had not arrived yet, but Susan Bones was grinding herself onto Harry's lap, shirt lifted over her hefty pre-teen tits, which she rubbed on Harry's face as she slowly fished his cock out of his pants.
Harry's cock was dirty and slimy. He'd clearly not washed it since the morning, and it was already coated in several different layers of girlcum and slobber.
Susan lifted her hips up as she prepared to line Harry's cock up with her sopping wet cunt. Then, she noticed Fleur by the door. “Oh, hey, Fleur. You want to go first?”
Fleur blanched. Of course she wanted to go first. She deserved to go first over all these other little brats. But she couldn't exactly admit that.
“Y-... if you wouldn't mind.”
Susan smiled as she climbed oft Harry's lap, giving the boy a kiss on the lips as she stood aside. “Go right ahead.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, Fleur scrambled, hiking up her skirt (she had foregone wearing knickers) and practically leaping onto Harry's lap.
His cock sank into her pussy. He spread her cunt apart, and stars filled her vision as Fleur shuddered.
What had happened the first time, the fire and flames and all that, did not happen, it hadn't happened since then. But everything else, the pure ecstasy she felt as she was fucked by his cock, it was all as wonderful as ever.
Fleur squeezed around Harry's cock and managed two strokes this time before she was quivering in orgasm. Susan was right behind her, helpfully catching the girl and easing her off of Harry's cock as her cunt spewed forth her sweet juices.
Susan gently laid Fleur down on the floor before climbing back onto Harry's lap, taking his cock, now full of veela cream, and stuffing it in her own pussy.
Nearby, the other girls hadn't even looked up from their game of gobstones. “The firsties haven't made it back here. They're usually the first ones.” Tracey said. She was sharing a seat with Pansy, rushing through a potions essay while her girlfriend played.
“Do you think it finally happened?” Hermione asked in a worried tone.
“We can only hope so.” Darcia said. “Cold wars are no fun at all.”
…
“They're definitely following us.” Astoria muttered as she casually flicked her hair, using that opportunity to cast a subtle glance over her shoulder.
The three first years were all alone, walking down an abandoned corridor. They'd been separated from the other firsties right after leaving potions, and they now found themselves turned around in a strange section of the castle.
Astoria wasn't sure about the others, but she was quite thrilled. They'd been preparing for this for so long, and now it was happening!
Luna had quickly activated the distress beacon. That had been a few minutes prior, which meant that they only needed to hold these idiots up for a few minutes on their end.
It seemed that the boys were confident they'd taken them far enough afield, because out in front of them, Flint hopped out from around a corner, a gleeful grin on his face.
All around them, the other boys emerged, leaving the three girls completely surrounded.
“Hi there! Its Flint, right?” Luna asked cheerfully. Astoria and Ginny snickered.
Flint and the others laughed along. “Giggle all you want, you little bitches.” He deliberately twirled his wand as the others drew theirs. “You're going to send a message to Malfoy for me.”
“Oh, really? And what is it?” Ginny asked.
“Don't worry about it, blood traitor.” Montague said from behind them. “Actions speak louder than words.”
A half dozen wands where whipped towards them, red, yellow and purple curses flying towards the defenseless little first years.
Except they weren't defenseless. The spells bounced off an invisible barrier before they made it within three feet of the girls. The boy's eyes widened. Not expecting any sort of resistance, they were not at all ready for their own spells rebounding off the shield and careening all over the place.
Montague and Warrington were both struck, and their pained screams made it clear that they'd been casting something a bit darker than a stunner. Warrington's leg cracked as his bones shattered while Montague began coughing up black bile from his lungs.
“What the fuck is that?!” Flint shouted. He'd just gotten up after narrowly dodging a rebounding curse, and he stared at the golden dome that surrounded the girls with shock and awe.
Astoria grinned as she held up a glowing stone with runes carved out all over its surface. These portable shields were expensive and rare, and a charge only lasted about five minutes, but Tonks had happily sent them one, along with three sets of lightweight dragonhide armor that they could wear under their robes.
Before the boys could formulate a new plan of attack, smoke began to billow in from out of nowhere, leaving them all coughing and wheezing.
The twins had arrived.
Wearing gas masks, the Weasley twins moved freely under the cover of the dungbomb smoke, jinxing and cursing the Slytherins as if they were shooting fish in a barrell.
The little distress beacon was keyed to Darcia, Penny and the twins, but with their expansive knowledge of the castle, Fred and George were always going to be the first to arrive, a thousand and one shortcuts at their fingertips.
They made quick work of the boys, tying them up with ropes. Penelope was the next to arrive, waving her wand high in the air as she dispelled the smoke.
“Couldn't you have come up with something other than dungbombs?” She said while pinching her nose.
The twins shrugged. Fred took off his mask and made a face at the lingering smell. “We could have come up with something new, I guess.”
“But you can't beat the classics.” George said after having taken his own mask off.
Penny sighed before turning to the girls as Astoria powered down the shield. The runes already looked worn and faded. The shield would not likely last another use.
“Are you girls alright?”
“Are you kidding, that was great!” Ginny squealed.
The twins chuckled. “Thank Merlin you take after us, GinGin.”
“I'm a bit sad we didn't get to use the other toys.” Luna said, patting her satchel, where they'd stashed several objects for self-defense, just in case they'd needed them.
“You wouldn't mind if I have a peek at those, would you?” George asked the willowy blonde.
“How about we focus?” Penelope said as she waved her wand, piling the entire group of Slytherin boys together.
They were a sorry bunch, bloodied, battered and bruised. But that wasn't all, they were embarrassed, humiliated, they'd gone after easy prey and had failed, catastrophically.
“I want you idiots to listen to me, and I want you to listen to me clearly.” Penny said, smirking as Flint fixed her with a hateful glare. “You won't get any more warnings after this. Drop your stupid little crusade. You have no hope.”
Flint sneered, but Penny ignored him, eyes sweeping over the others. “If you drop it, we'll leave you alone. If you don't, we're ready to make the rest of your time at Hogwarts a living hell. The Boss Lady will not work with you, not now nor ever. Think long and hard, do you really want this fight, or would you just be happier thinking about girls and quidditch?”
Their faces told her she'd gotten through to most of them. The other would just have to suffer the consequences.
“Lets go.”
“Yes ma'am!” The twins parroted as they left the boys tied up groaning.
…
The home was unprotected, its owner having neglected to put up even the barest of defensive wards.
He was complacent. Of course, Germany was safe, had been safe for decades. Not since Grindlewald had there even been a hint of conflict in these lands, an oasis tranquility sandwiched between the upheavals that regularly visited France and the Dark Wizards that had free reign in the east.
But this man should have known better. He'd been around when Grindelwald ruled. He should have not let peace temper his caution.
“Go, Wormtail!”
Voldemort sent him forth, and he could not help but see this as a pathetic shadow of his former escapades. Where before, he'd commanded armies of loyal Death Eaters to execute raids of terror on large, populated settlements, now, he was commanding one sniveling coward onward, to raid an isolated cottage in the middle of nowhere.
And he himself had been reduced to an infant, laying on a crib, exposed to the elements with nothing but a stolen wand to protect him.
This, the corpse of yet another child, was his fifth body so far. They deteriorated very quickly. Without a ready supply of unicorn blood to sustain him, he could not risk taking over Wormtail's body, not when he didn't have a path to regaining his body.
Though hopefully, this little house call would soon remedy that.
The wonderful melody of screams rose high into the air, more numerous that he had expected. That was a good thing, a very good thing, and the Dark Lord waited patiently in his crib as lights began to flash through the windows of the cottage.
It took only a few minutes for Wormtail to return, sweating and out of breath but sporting no injuries. He wasn't completely useless.
“I-I did it master.”
“Then what are you waiting for, Wormtail? Take me inside!”
It was ignominious, having to be carried in his arms like a child, but it would all be worth it when he got what he'd come for.
The living room was a mess, a chaotic portrait composed of upturned furniture, shattered glass and blood.
Propped up against a wall, tied up tightly with ropes, were an old man and woman, along with two very young children.
Voldemort chuckled darkly as the old man fixed him with a wrathful glare.
“Hans Ziegler. Former head of the Bavarian Legion. One of Gridlewald's top lieutenants, until you turned on him.”
The man's face contorted further as the children cried. The woman babbled in rapid-fire german, not understanding a word the dark lord had spoken.
“You. Take whatever you want. You will pay later.” Ziegler spat out in broken english.
Voldemort's laughter rang throughout the room, further terrifying the children and further enraging the old man.
“What I want, Mr. Ziegler, is trapped inside here.” Voldemort tapped the man on the forehead, his slimy, rotten flesh making the man recoil. “Do not lie to me. Not to Lord Voldemort.” He smiled with glee as the man's eyes widened. “You know the name, good. Then you know better than to defy me. All I need is some information, Mr. Ziegler. I've been told that you know of a place, a place where I can regain a true body.”
The man trashed against the ropes, cursing loudly in german. Voldemort had never been one for languages, so he could only guess at what was being said.
Not that it would make much of a difference. No matter what the man said, his course would always be the same.
“Avada Kedavra!”
That old euphoria coursed through him as the flash of green burst from his wand. If dark magic was addictive, the killing curse was pure heroin, mainlined directly through the veins.
The spell struck the youngest, a girl no older than nine. Her eyes barely had time to widen in fear before the life was ripped from her and her body crumpled to the ground.
The old woman screamed as the girl's brother wailed and sobbed. The old man had grown deathly pale, his mouth hanging open in shock.
“You are all dead. There is no way around it.” Voldemort said cooly. “You get to choose how they die. If you cooperate, it will be as quick and painless as that little girl. If you don't.” His lips curled into a maniacal smile. “I will take my time, and I will enjoy it.”
Twenty minutes later, four corpses lay on the floor. Lord Voldemort was staring down at a map made of blood, committing it to memory.
“Make preparations, Wormtail. We are to head east.”
He would need a new temporary body, a sturdier one that would at least hold up for several weeks. They were to face harsh conditions, and apparently some trials along the way, but Lord Voldemort was not concerned. All he cared about was that specific point in the map, at the absolute edge of the world, in the isolated wilderness of the Siberian tundra.
He would reach the Lazarus Pit, and he would regain his body.
…
“Filch seems pissed.” Pansy said, nodding towards the crotchety old caretaker that was leaning against a wall, glaring hatefully in their general direction.
Darcia shrugged. “I think he was the one that found Flint and the others. We've probably got him running ragged.”
“How were your classes, Fleur?” Daphne asked the older girl.
“They were fine.” Fleur swirled her fork around her dish. It was bland and tasteless, but she would have the same enthusiasm even if it had been the most succulent of meals. No, more and more she was finding herself craving one thing and one thing only. A nice, big helping of her king's cum filling her stomach always left her satiated and feeling warm.
“Hopefully those idiots learn their lesson. I'm tired of having to look over my shoulder.” Tracey said.
Darcia glanced over to her slave. Harry was quiet, barely touching his food. “Everything alright?”
He looked at her. “I'm fine, mistress, just not feeling hungry, I guess.”
Darcia frowned. “Are you sure, Harry?”
Before he could answer, Harry's eyes went wide. Without warning, he hopped off from the bench and began running towarda the doors.
“Harry?” Daphne yelped in confusion.
The boy didn't answer, and the entire great hall was treated to quite the scene as the girls all abandoned their meals to follow after him.
From the high table, Bella and Andi shared a single glance before doing the same. Dumbledore frowned, looking over the gathered students, all looking rather befuddled, before he stood up and followed after him.
Fleur, Daphne and Susan were in the lead, and they managed to keep Harry in sight as the boy was in a full sprint.
“Harry! What's happening?!” Susan shouted between huffs as she began to feel a stitch on her side.
“Penny!” He roared in response, voice sounding angry, irate.
“Penny?”
They chased after him for several flights of stairs before the mad dash finally ended. Harry had abruptly stopped staring at something on the wall.
“H-Harry… could we get an explanation now?” Daphne panted with her hands on her knees. Susan and her were hunched over as the others closed the distance, though Fleur remained fully upright, mouth closed as she took rapid breaths through her nose.
“My king?” Slipped from the blonde's lips. She couldn't help it. Her king looked enraged, like he was about to boil over into a towering inferno.
“Harry?” Darcia asked as she caught up with them, noticing Harry's state.
When they finally saw what he saw, they gasped.
Penny was standing there, cradling a cat - Mrs. Norris- in her arms. Her face was frozen in an expression of pure horror, while the cat's fur had bristled up, its mouth open in a silent hiss.
And that was it, they were frozen in time, unmoving, like statues.
Behind them, on the wall, written in blood, an ominous message had been scrawled.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!
Everyone had caught up now, and as Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles, Harry thrust his hand forward, a ball of pure white flame bursting from his hand.
The ball struck the wall, melting through it and completely incinerating the word ‘Heir’ as a smooth, clean hole was left in its wake.
Daphne rushed towards him, wrapping the boy in a hug, and the others soon followed. Their whispered words did little to calm the turmoil inside Harry's mind while Dumbledore stared at the wall with a concerned look on his face.
…
Amelia arrived within half an hour. She found the professors, Pomfrey, Hagrid and Filch sitting tensely in the staff room, she crossed eyes with Bellatrix and Andromeda before she pulled up a chair opposite Dumbledore.
“Headmaster, what do you have for me?”
“We have a petrified student, Madam Bones.”
“Don't forget Mrs. Norris! Don't you dare forget her!” Filch yelled between sniffles. Professor Sprout was sitting next to the caretaker, trying to comfort him as he wept openly.
“And Mr. Filch's cat.” Dumbledore added.
“Do you know what could have done it?” She asked.
“I have a theory, a very good one at that. I believe a student has been possessed by a dark object.”
“A dark object, Albus? But what makes you say that?” Flitwick asked.
“I have my reasons.” The looks shared between Amelia, Dumbledore and the Black sisters ensured they were on the same page. This was the doing of the diadem Horcrux.
“Were all the students accounted for during the incident?”
“The great majority were at dinner when it happened. Outside of Miss Clearwater, the only ones whose locations we cannot vouch for are Mr. Flint, Mr. Warrington, Mr. Montague, Mr. Pucey and Mr. Selwyn.”
“Headmaster, all of those boys were in the hospital wing at the time, bedridden with considerable injuries. They still are.” Madam Pomfrey interjected.
“Yet you were at dinner, Poppy. They were unsupervised. I know it sounds unlikely, but in the absence of any other evidence, I believe this is the most likely theory.”
“Albus, I saw those boys, do you really think they'd be in any condition to attack Ms. Clearwater?” McGonagall said.
Once more, those in the know shared a look. A horcrux would not care one bit for the boy's pain, it would use their body for its purposes.
“Headmaster, if we may talk in private.” Amelia said.
Dumbledore nodded. “Everyone, make sure the students are still in their dorms. No one is to leave them tonight, no excuses.”
Everyone nodded in assent and then chairs began to scrape back. “Bellatrix, Andromeda, if you would stay behind.”
“Of course, Headmaster. Aurora, could you check on my Slytherins?”
Professor Sinistra nodded. “Of course, Andi.”
The room emptied, with Hagrid practically carrying a sobbing Filch as the door slammed shut behind them.
Dumbledore went to work, a myriad of privacy charms flying from his wand the moment the door closed.
“We should have those boys things searched until we find that fucking horcrux.” Bellatrix said.
“I've already done it.” Dumbledore said. “I didn't find a thing.”
The other's eyes widened.
“You think it knows we're after it?” Andromeda asked.
“I believe Tom is a very clever man, underneath all the madness. A diary might be easier to pull off, but one of those boys carrying around a diadem isn't exactly inconspicuous. He's likely found a hiding spot.”
“So we just need to follow them around until they reveal where they've hidden it.” Bellatrix said.
“Why would we wait around for that?” Amelia asked. “We have our own Horcrux, remember?”
The other's eyes widened, and Dumbledore let out a chuckle. “Of course, that is quite ingenious.”
“Takes one to catch one, eh?” Bellatrix barked. “Well, no time to waste, lets get Tom's stubby ass in here!”
…
Tom was making quite a bit of progress.
It had been a bit difficult at first. Language had never been his thing. He'd only ever cared in so much as it helped him learn darker, nastier curses.
But he wasn't a genius for nothing. Slowly, he'd been plucking away at the journal, and he'd been able to translate the great majority of it.
There were some very interesting things in there, things that if pursued, would make his mistresses vast amounts of wealth.
But right now, his focus was on helping the veela, and he was getting closer and closer to that goal. There were two mythical swords detailed in the journal: Excalibur and the Sword of Gryffindor.
Both were viable candidates, and the breadcrumbs of information left within the pages were, while very vague, enough to begin their hunt.
“Tom!”
He snapped the book shut as he glanced over his shoulder. Mistress Nymphadora was there, rocking her baby in her arms. Behind her were Mistress Andromeda and Mistress Narcissa.
“Yes, mistress?”
“Tom. Have you heard of the Chamber of Secrets?”
…
It took only twenty minutes for Tom to be marching through the empty passages of Hogwarts. If any students had been allowed in the halls, it would have been a humorous sight for them, to see a tiny gnome leading some of the most powerful mages in Britain around.
They had kept the team small. It was Dumbledore, Amelia and Bellatrix. The headmaster's Phoenix was on his shoulder, while Bella was holding a conjured rooster upside down by its feet. All three of them were wearing visors that blocked their forward vision, meaning they were all staring at Tom's stubby feet as he led them towards the second floor girl's bathroom.
The moment Tom had told them about the basilisk, they knew they needed to kill it, there was no way they could allow something like that to keep roaming the castle.
Myrtle was not in her stall. Tom hissed at the sink and it slid aside to reveal a pipe, a second hiss and a set of stairs formed.
They journeyed down, deep into the bowels of the castle. “Merlin. This is insane.” Amelia said as they came out onto the dingy, waterlogged tunnell.
“It was worse when I first came down.” Tom said as he led them forward, feet crunching on the bones of rats and mice.
He led them through the great doors, into Salazar's chamber. It was a vast room, filled with puddles where the water from the lakebed was dripping down from the ceiling. Amidst the large pillars, the vast statue of Salazar Slytherin stood, opulent and imposing in an otherwise dilapidated room.
“He was an ugly bastard.” Bellatrix said. “No wonder they kicked him out.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Just have that rooster ready.”
“I will shield us as well, just as a precaution.” Dumbledore waved his wand and a golden shield flickered to life, creating a wall between the three of them and Tom.
“You sure you can keep it under control, Tom?” Bellatrix asked, worry evident in her tone.
The gnome nodded. “I can, mistress. Shoshanna is compelled to obey speakers, and then when the rooster crows, it'll be too late.”
“Shoshanna? It has a name?”
“Everything craves an identity, Madam Bones, even a millenia old serpent.” Dumbledore said with a hint of humor.
Tom began to walk towards the statue, and a hush fell over them. They waited tensely as the tiny little gnome stood before the mouth of his forefather.
“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!”
His words settled into the air and the entire room began to rumble. Stone ground against stone as the mouth of the statue rustled open, growing larger and larger until Tom was staring down at a gaping abyss.
Unable to see ahead, the others waited for a sound, any sound.
“Tom, everything good over there?!” Bellatrix yelled.
“Shoshanna has been asleep for fifty years, mistress, it'll take her a few moments to shake off the cobwebs.”
Then they heard it, a low rumbling, a buildup of something from inside the mouth of the statue.
“Huh.” Tom mused. “That doesn't sound ri-”
A cannonball blast startled them completely. Their heads snapped up, worries over the basilisk forgotten in their curiosity over what had happened.
“No!” Bellatrix screamed.
Tom was stumbling back. His tiny body was barely holding on, having been pierced through by a long spear, right through the chest. His hands reached out to touch the shaft of the spear, body still in shock.
“TOM!”
There was another blast from the mouth of the statue. This one was an actual cannonball. The black mass connected with Tom's body like a bowling ball striking down a pin, and the gnome's body shattered as if it had been made of porcelain.
As Bellatrix cursed up a storm and tried to break through Dumbledore's shield, Tom's head rolled over towards them, eyes empty and unseeing.
Comments
Lurk
Nope. I mean, its the diadem!crux, but we don't know who it is
Daeron Targaryen
How could you kill Tom I liked that gnome.
Luna Wolf
Aww I kinda feel sad for gnomemort xD I hope he can be saved lol. Also agreed was whoever behind this revealed in a previous chapter? Looking forward to the next one hope everyone will be okay.
Handyandy
Oh no! Gnomedemort! I've forgotten, were we told who's behind this in an earlier chapter?
