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A Bend in Time

Before there ever was a boy that ever lived in a cupboard on Four Privet Drive, there was a similar boy in a far worse home that lived on Spinner’s End. We all know the tale of that abused boy who grew up to become a bitter spy. But not all tales end the same for in the many parallel worlds that exist in the universe there are far better endings, and equally as many worse ones. This is a tale of one such condemned universe that for better or for worse chooses to change its own fate at through the sacrifice of the bitter spy. (All rights to the Harry Potter world and characters belong solely to J. K. Rowling. However, I do claim creative fanfiction rights. Please do not post my fanfiction elsewhere without my express permission. This work will also be partially hosted at RoyalRoad, Wattpadd, and Archive.)

EsliEsma · Derivados de obras
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1221 Chs

Ruse Ⅲ

With Lord Voldemort's rousing speech finished, the Death Eaters bubble with pride and absolute confidence. A Death Eater with a spotted face grabs the lantern from the ground and hurriedly lifts it to lighten the path before the Dark Lord. With the dirt trail leading to the cottage clearly visible, Voldemort swiftly strides up the path towards the cottage on the hill with his Death Eaters hungrily trailing close behind him. The wards surrounding the cottage flicker weakly before Voldemort causing his lips to curl with disdain. What an utterly weak and pathetic display of power. No wonder the wizarding world had become so very weak!

A simple spell would bring down the flimsy wards surrounding the cottage. So much for Potions Master Damocles Belby being difficult to entrap, and a Slytherin at that. He was unworthy of belonging to Slytherin, a blight to their house, a disgrace. However, he would shortly remedy that, and remedy he would. He would destroy the blight, the cancer that weakened the wizarding realm from their former might.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters come to a halt at the edge of a wooden staked fence. They wait and peek at each other, and then at the Dark Lord. Voldemort does not move as his crimson serpent eyes gaze fixed upon the door as if waiting for something. With a loud creak, the wooden door of the cottage swings open as a figure emerges from inside. The figure's cowl is pulled over his face as he stands in the doorway of the cottage.

"Do I have the privilege of speaking to the famous Potion Master Damocles Belby?" Voldemort matter-of-factly asked with a slight downward tilt of his lips. The hooded figure standing before him was shorter than he was expecting and appeared of a sturdier build. And from what he knew, Damocles Belby was a tall and thin slender man, but an image always lies, and the Daily Prophet was not to be trusted at face value. It would certainly not be the first time that they had exaggerated an individual's qualities nor the last.

The hooded figure does not speak for a moment, before saying, "And do I have the honor of speaking to the half-blood known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, the son of Merope Gaunt, and the muggle Tom Riddle Sr.?"

As the hooded figure spoke Voldemort's face darkened as his crimson serpent eyes flashed with old anger. A smug snort is heard from Antonin Dolohov as the Death Eaters rustle and stare at each other, but none dare to speak lest they incur the wrath of their Master. Although some of the Death Eaters recall the accusation of the old Prince and especially that of the Ministry of Magic against the murderer known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, who had slain his pureblood grandfather in cold blood. Naturally, they had ignored the fact that he had killed his muggle family, but for a pureblood to turn against blood was a slight that not even the worst of purebloods forgave. A feeling of dread and uneasiness once more returns to these Death Eaters as they privately question if they had made the correct choice.

Nagini sensing the unrest of her kin rubs her head against the hand of Voldemort. Voldemort comes back to himself and slowly exhales as he controls himself once more. It had not been apparent at first, but he could clearly begin to feel the effects of madness upon his soul. In the process of creating his Horcruxes, he had lost a vital part of himself and acquired a burning rage that could not be easily quelled. If he did not, he feared that he would lose sight of that which lay before and be at the mercy of his unquenchable rage.

Seeing that his words failed to rouse the rage of his intended target, the polyjuiced figure of Auror Percius Clements switches tactics. "I see, you are ashamed to admit the truth of your past in front of your like-minded cohorts, Lord Voldemort," he loudly said. "Then let us be forthright with each other, I know that you are here for Damocles Belby."

Lord Voldemort's crimson serpent eyes narrow as his lips twitch, before he hisses, "Where is Damocles Belby?"

The polyjuiced figure of Auror Percius Clements shoves his cowl back to reveal his face. "You will have to get through me, first," he triumphantly cried out as lifted his hand and pointed up at the sky. "Morsmordre!" From the tip of his wand emerges a sickly light that grows larger and larger in the sky. Hanging high overhead, a colossal, emerald skull in the sky with a poisonous snake emerging from its mouth and curling about. The hideous, sickly green light hangs overhead and bathes the area in its malicious light.

Voldemort is not the only one to flinch in shock at the evil emerald star in the sky. Through narrowed eyes, Voldemort coldly says, "And just how do you know that spell, if I might inquire further into your identity?"

"Auror Percius Clements at your service," the polyjuiced figure of Percius Clements smartly replied, before pointing his wand towards the ground. "Locomotor!" From the ground lightly buried down below a surface, but unnoticeable under the light of a new moon, glistening potions burst from the ground. With a swish of his wand, the potions head straight towards the surprised Death Eaters.

"Protego!" Several of the more quick-witted Death Eaters shout, however, to no avail for the spell only protected against spells, not physical objects.

"Confringo!" Antonin Dolohov mercilessly shouted causing one of the potion bottles to explode and releasing a poisonous gas! Those at the edge of the group nearest to the gas, begin to fall limp to the ground with white foam fuming from their mouths. The Death Eaters nearby flee, but trip and tumble over their robes in the dim dark.

"Fools," Rodolphus grumbled under his breath, before saying, "Ventus!" A spiraling wind from the tip of his wand sends the poisonous fog away but leaving those already poisoned foaming on the ground.

Seeing that shattering the potion vials is madness, Voldemort lifts his wand and shouts, "Depulso!" The Banishing Charm sends the object away from its target and far away. The potions whirl away only to appear on the other side of the hills and explode there.

While the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort fight against the endless pelting of the potion vials, Nagini tries to attack only to find that the ground is rigged with deadly traps. Just missing falling into a poisoned trap filled with metal stakes, she decides to tactfully retreat. It was madness to continue to attack from this direction. She would attempt again from another direction to aid her kin.

The Death Eaters at times like these reveal their lack of flexibility for lack of better words.

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