The Dark Lord's New Phobias: Boggart, Old Man, Picture

Somewhere under London, a creature was successfully hiding, capable of seeing the future in addition to its many abilities, except for intangibility and mind reading. This creature was born out of a simple boggart due to our carelessness. It could have become a formidable weapon, but how could we get to it?

Catching an existing Tlautlipuzli was foolish; without capturing the Ministry, we would not be able to openly carry out the much-needed Dark Magic. Therefore, it was decided to create a new creature. However, that endeavor was unsuccessful! We meticulously repeated the entire work log, but the boggarts either died from gluttony, stopped eating too much, or fell into hibernation.

It seemed that figuring out the prophecy hinged on this creature, but nothing worked out for us, and we did not understand why, even though we continued to try. The only silver lining was that there was no overspending of prisoners, as the boggarts simply drove the victims mad. Consequently, the prisoners could still be used for sacrifices or disassembled for ingredients.

Today, I decided to visit one of our bases where we were working on fattening up a boggart. It was a regular artificial underground cavity beneath a deserted forest, staffed by a dozen werewolves working in shifts. Their job was to throw securely fastened food to the boggart, which was bound with anti-boggart runes and more complex ones intended to keep Tlautlipuzli in the cage—if it worked, of course.

"I want to look at the boggart being examined," I ordered the werewolves, who trembled at my appearance, holding their wands pointed down just in case.

The guards bowed, hiding their gaze, and I entered the underground room. The boggart's prison was a stone room, all the walls of which were covered with runes from the inside. Inside, in a circle of smaller runes, there should be a boggart, to which paralyzed food is thrown by levitation, and when the food goes crazy, it is taken away by levitation. Naturally, it is incredibly stupid to bother so much with guarding a simple boggart, but we are hoping for the success of the experiment, for a new Tlautlipuzli. And this time we will hold it back...

Entering the room, I realized two things. The automatic monitoring system of the experiment did not justify itself. There was no notification of an emergency, no security golems that were activated. Also, the werewolves are too careless about their service—according to the regulations, one of them must always be in the room in contact with the others, but this was not the case. And I warned them... But that was not the main thing. The experiment was clearly a success. We got from this boggart... something... only I am not sure that this is what we wanted.

Why am I so sure that something happened? The boggart does not eat the bodies of its victims; it simply drives them mad, feeding on fear. That is, the bodies remain in place; they can then be taken and used again in a sacrifice. Here, however, there were no bodies of victims—neither those who had gone mad, nor those who had recently been thrown here. In the center of the figure of runes stood that which shouldn't be there. Instead of the boggart's haze, there was something that made my eyes water.

Someone looked like an illustration on the topic of sexual minorities in a Muggle comedy series. A robe that was a robe in the colors of the rainbow flag. A hat that looked like it was taken from someone from the peoples of the Land of Oz. High-heeled shoes. The image was complemented by a beard that any priest could envy, only it had bells of all the colors of the rainbow woven into it. Against the background of all this splendor, the Elder Wand, looking at the floor, was somehow lost.

The exhibition of absurdity was added by the picture in Albus's hands. Once I wanted to know my fear. Having removed the protection of the mind, I had long communicated with the boggart. The boggart flickered: now he showed me his death, then how a Dementor kisses me, then the revelation that I am not Voldemort.

This happens when a person does not know what he is afraid of. In theory, no boggart would be able to break through the Oclumency defense of my mind and would look like just a harmless cloud of blackish smoke. But now the boggart took on a very specific form, and in light of recent events—the battle at the Crouch house, the meeting at the Ministry—I was not surprised by what I saw.

"You are a spectacular loser, Voldemort," the boggart in the form of Albus Dumbledore told me. I had no doubt that this was not the real Dumbledore. How did the real Dumbledore get here? How did he bypass the security systems without a phoenix and not raise an alarm? Of course, this is not the Lestrange house and not my house under the Fidelius, but still. Moreover, I did not feel any magic from this Albus—no magical shields, nothing.

How should Albus Dumbledore behave? He would immediately attack me, taking advantage of the fact that there are no witnesses. I could easily imagine him remembering his youth and launching an Avada at me. In fact, I would have accepted absolutely any behavior from Albus except for the one he demonstrated—the only thing stupider was trying to seduce me.

Albus stood, holding the Elder Wand point down, as relaxed as possible, as if welcoming a grandson into his home. At the same time, he leaned on the painting as if it were a chest of drawers in his house. And I recognized the painting. I tried to kill Alastor Moody with it.

But I soberly calculated my chances and took into account the statistics of previous attempts on Alastor Moody. Therefore, I gave the painting an undocumented function. In fact, this painting is like Lily the fish—a spell powered by the caster. That is, the charm on the painting works as long as I am alive.

Therefore, if I die, it will disappear. This means that this painting is a reliable indicator of my death. I assumed that Albus would be interested in it and that he would not destroy it. And if things go really badly for me, then thanks to the embedded surprise, I will be able to remotely deactivate the painting's magical supply, and the spell will disintegrate.

Any examination will show that the spell is now inactive because its author has died. And then my opponents will have proof that I am dead. Such is the emergency plan for covering my tracks in case of failure and escape.

"Don't you recognize it? Sorry, I trimmed my beard. And do you recognize the painting?" Albus asked me. I really wanted to tie this creature up, but who knows how it reacts to magic? What if, instead of tying it up securely, I accidentally kill it or release it?

So, I launched a cascade of scanning spells. The creature interested me; it seemed to have gotten into some of my thoughts through the protection, so I needed to figure out how it did it.

The painting looked like mine. The same lawn, the same building in the distance… I had to stall for time until the scanning spells responded. "I'm not interested in the paintings; I'm interested in you. What are you?" I asked. The scanning spells responded. They detected powerful but skillfully disguised magic.

"You have no idea how much I enjoy being your Boggart. But I'd like to talk to you," they answered. I was starting to like the situation less and less. It was either Albus or the wrong Boggart. In any case, it was time to perform my signature move. The room was protected from Apparition, so I simply called my familiar. The idea was simple: I'd run away from here and then send someone inside to sort things out. If he survived, I'd go myself; if not, I'd send a squad. People, werewolves, golems, dementors, infernals... The enemy must have weaknesses! If I don't find these weaknesses, I'll blow up the entire lab.

I instantly felt a connection with Nagini and called her to me. She disappeared from my house under the Fidelius to instantly appear here. I held my wand in my right hand, pointing it at the creature, while Nagini grabbed me by the left. Nagini burst into flames to leave here, but she remained in place, sitting on my shoulder! Instantly, the entire inner surface of the room was covered with a strange barrier. Now I felt my enemy.

There should be no doubt about the identity of the Hogwarts director. It seemed that I was trapped... "Albus?" I asked, calling on all the most powerful protective spells while synchronously looking for gaps in his defense. At the same time, I was preparing to reflect his attack and dodge Avada. For this, I needed to be ready to conjure a dozen transfigured shields.

One thing was clear to me: either it was another mutant boggart, or it was Albus Dumbledore. In any case, I had no business here. It seemed he had quickly erected a barrier against the phoenix's movement… But I had not yet been attacked, although I could feel the stupefying power of the protective spells without the scanning spells. Some of them were covering Albus, while others were running along the inner surface of the hall, preventing me from escaping. Despite the fact that Albus was in the center of a monstrous construction made of our runes, he did not feel any discomfort.

"Hello, Albus. Have you come to discuss the terms of your surrender? Or are you willing to give something to get your brother back? Or maybe you have finally remembered what the Muggles did to your sister and realized that you and I are natural allies?" I asked, putting a good face on a bad game. At the same time, I called my supporters. How did he get here? And why isn't he attacking? And why did he bring the painting? Although... this is Albus; he has such a reputation that he could have offered me candy...

"Hello, Voldemort. Your talent as a butcher and a maniac amazes me. How did you manage to think of feeding people to a boggart, which was treated with Dark Magic? Have you at least tried experiments on human cells or artificially grown organs?" What was happening resembled a hallucination—Albus was talking to me instead of attacking. But this can be used to my advantage. I do not believe that I will be able to recruit him; I failed to escape. The only option is to kill him.

But why fight him one-on-one? This is the second time I've called for backup. For high-quality communication with the Death Eaters, a body with the Dark Mark is necessary. But as an author, I can give a number of the simplest signals without another Death Eater. Just now, I used the "All to me" signal. The idea was simple—this is not Diagon Alley. Yes, Albus got here unnoticed, but he is alone.

Soon, a crowd of Death Eaters will appear here. Not only the Inner Circle has the Dark Mark, but other magicians as well. Perhaps some will not come, some will be late... and some will take golems, the dead, or werewolves with them. But even if only fifty wizards show up, Albus should have enough to worry about because I'm not going to spit on the ceiling either.

The Elder Wand is certainly a great help, but we don't need to defeat the Elder Wand, just its mortal bearer. The question remains of how reinforcements will get here, but I think the headmaster's charms are aimed at preventing anyone from escaping, not getting in.

In extreme cases, they'll break it from the outside. Maybe I'm wrong. But then there will be a chance to escape.

"I still don't understand your motives," Albus said. "Pride? Playing god? Fear of Death? Maybe you can explain it to me?"

"Anything for the greatness of pure blood!" I shouted. "Let's play a game. While you entertain me with interesting conversation, I won't attack. As soon as you start saying things you don't believe, I'll start the fight. You're taking on a lot... But if anyone benefits from stalling for time, it's me: I'm the one waiting for reinforcements. We need to keep the conversation going...

"Do you feel sorry for people? The number of victims in the wizarding civil war in England is measured in five figures, almost all of them are Muggles, mostly from other countries. Millions die every year from the effects of smoking. Isn't it logical for you to direct your talents to saving as many people as possible? And there are also transport accidents. And the main problem that will not pass you by—death from old age. You, Albus, are constantly caring for a drop while you are surrounded by an ocean!" I said.

"From your words, I can assume that your actions are due to a combination of opportunity and impunity, seasoned with fear. You behave like an animal that seeks better conditions for itself, ignoring everyone else," Albus answered me. Damned extended philosophy...

"Albus, we are all looking for better conditions for ourselves. If the probability of punishment is lower than the expected benefit, an act is committed, including a crime. It's just arithmetic; I stated the obvious."

"Does the whole person fit into the concept of 'stimulus-response'? That is, everything a person does, he does only for himself? There are a number of flaws in your reasoning. What about love? A person can sacrifice himself for others."

"The instinct of reproduction is the same as the instinct of self-preservation. A person strives to survive; it's just how he is designed. And reproduction... Each child contains half of your genes, so from the point of view of arithmetic, it makes no difference whether you survive, or your two children, or four grandchildren. But three children are already more profitable than your life. In this case, a person is simply a victim of evolution."

"An unusual view," Albus answered. "And what about helping strangers? A person can do something without expecting a reward."

"I'm not a fanatic, Albus. I won't do anything for spiritual currency. If you have any specific suggestions, let's discuss them," I said.

"Why do people help each other in everyday life? Thousands of reasons," I continued. "The simplest is when you're running from a nunda. You don't need to run faster than the nunda; you need to run faster than the slowest runner. That is, helping each other creates a safe buffer between yourself and problems.

And people are not abacuses; they don't use genuine information, but the most probable assessment that they can use. Therefore, their assessment of events does not always coincide with the actual content; in many cases, their altruism is simply an incorrect assessment of the friend-foe system. From the point of view of arithmetic, living nature is designed in such a way that its inhabitants strive to ensure the survival of the maximum number of their genes, regardless of whose bodies they are in. People follow their feelings, and feelings are designed for completely different living conditions and numbers of people. It is precisely the incorrect assessment of friend or foe that gives rise to altruism.

"And the more pride a person has, the more unique he considers himself, and the more he is inclined to save himself, hiding behind others," Albus suggested. "Is this how extreme egoism fits into your scheme?"

"If you are immortal, then you have no need to sacrifice yourself for others, even your children," I said. "Somewhere in the depths of your mind, you understand everything yourself, Albus. Two paths to eternal life in this world: part of you lives in others, or you do not die."

"A very one-sided view of life. I am telling you about a square; you are telling me about four segments. Slytherins are called egoists; in fact, they simply have a narrow circle of 'their own' for whom they can risk their lives. Usually, this is family. In your case, the whole world is closed to only one person, to yourself. Gryffindors, on the contrary, have a wide circle of 'their own,' including all people in general," the Headmaster told me.

"It's funny that two such different houses are so similar. But there are a number of errors in your conclusions. I can't fix your emotional nihilism. You'll just laugh when you hear about compassion or that, had it been a little different, you could have ended up in the place of your victims. So I'll approach it from a different angle."

"Are you sure you're immortal? I assure you, many have tried not to die. And no one succeeded; the only difference is the number of those they dragged along with them. Are you relying on Dark Magic? Mass murder and revenge sometimes worked, but anything worthwhile—never. Moreover, you do everything under the assumption that death is the final end. It's not!"

"Just don't tell me: 'Tom, there is no death!' Death is real. And unlike you, I fight it, while you just gave in, accepting it as a fact! You consider me an animal that uses its powers to get a better position, and you yourself just go with the flow, without trying to change anything!"

"Death is real. But it's not the end." I looked at him like he was crazy. Where are my fighters?

"You don't believe me? What if I can convince you?" they asked me. "Didn't get it?"

"You won't succeed," I told him. "Flatter me. Imagine that I did," they said with a kind smile.

"Do you think you'll be able to show me a theatrical performance, and I'll cry and give up?" Albus sighed wearily. Where are my fighters? This is the fourth time I've sent a signal; someone had to come! I don't feel any attack on the protective dome or any attempts to urgently contact me. Did the old man somehow temporarily block the signal?

"Okay, if reinforcements aren't coming to Voldemort, then Voldemort is coming to reinforcements. Albus, should we go outside? I don't want to flood the lab with your blood."

"Otherwise, I don't know that you have a dozen and a half werewolves outside," they told me. "You are a cruel and indifferent person to others, ossified in your convictions. And although there are many like you, it doesn't change anything. You could live as you wanted, but you started killing others, and I will have to stop you," they said in the tone of a judge from the Wizengamot.

"Let's try a second take. Maybe you will fight me fairly, without using the Elder Wand?" I suggested.

"Only after you commit suicide," Albus answered me. "But before we begin, I would like to ask you, do you repent of anything?"

"Yes, I repent. For coming here. And that my servants are idiots; they cannot come to my call. But Albus couldn't have converted everyone? Or did he somehow manage to jam the signal that I was sending to the Death Eaters? But what I regret most is that you have the Elder Wand and not me."

In any case, it's time to finish. Pretending to be lost in thought, I did the only thing I hadn't tried yet: I switched to Astral Sight for a moment. I didn't like what I saw. Standard patterns—brain, sniffles, and other nonsense—but the picture in Albus's hands was connected to my eyes by two cords. Some beads were crawling along them towards me, and they were already close. A trick or something dangerous? Using the Dark Blades and the Dragonslayer Spear, I hit the connecting cords and the beads.

But my spells simply passed through the target, as if trying to kill someone summoned by the Resurrection Stone, and hit the wall of the lab. Dumbledore's protection held, but sparked. The beads continued moving towards me. Switching to magical vision, I began the fight. It's time to break out of here...

I had just accelerated myself with magic to the maximum. I wasn't just chatting all this time; I was preparing, holding Frank Longbottom's wand with the tip pointed at the floor. Multiple Avadas flew at the old man. Two of my Hellfires lit up at once, taking the form of giant snakes. One jumped on Albus, while the second lunged towards the wall of the laboratory, trying to break through the exit to freedom for me.

To top it all off, I conjured a huge, corporeal Antipatronus that took the form of an Obscurus. Alas, Albus was also preparing. The air filled with transfigured objects. Almost the entire volume of the room was filled with these transfigured creations. None of the Avadas reached him. One of the Hellfire snakes managed to reach the outer contour of Albus's defenses, while the other hit the walls of the room, but both Hellfire Curses were defeated.

The Antipatronus fared better: time after time, a brightly shining phoenix Patronus flew through it, but the Antipatronus held on, shrinking in size after each contact with Albus's Patronus.

Deciding that no matter how stupid the guards were, they should call for backup in case of an emergency, I cast a Dark Source, aiming at the wall, hoping to break through it and thus send a signal to my people. In vain, nothing could reach the walls. Since I could not see the picture now due to the transfigured junk, I decided to reactivate my astral vision to check if the connection was interrupted either due to lack of visual contact or because Hellfire passed through the connection. But the connection was in place; moreover, the beads were already a meter from my face!

A curse through sight? Did Albus really gut the basilisk and manage to come up with something special? I tried casting a barrier, tried not to look, but the beads continued to move at a constant speed. Better to be on the safe side. Without stopping the attack on Albus, I cast a pain-killing spell on myself and then simply crushed my eyes with telekinesis. Fighting while blind is a very bad idea. There are special charms similar to radar, but Albus will be able to jam them with interference in an instant. So I continued the fight, observing the situation through Nagini's eyes. Unfortunately, Nagini did not have Astral Sight.

Soon the moment came when the beads should have touched my eye sockets. I felt that my body wanted to apparate to an unknown place. I instantly suppressed this impulse, continuing to throw Black Spheres at Albus, followed by Cruciatus. Albus summoned some kind of translucent protection that accepted the Black Spheres, and the Cruciatus were eliminated when they ran into some transfigured cocoon a couple of feet from Albus's body.

And then my body again wanted to apparate somewhere, and this time it was much harder to prevent it. But the fight did not think to stop. Albus went into a deep defense, as if waiting for something. I waved my hands, and blackish splashes flew from the wand at Albus, which were supposed to destroy the painting, but he took them into his defense. My attack was absorbed by the whitish glow from it. His defense held, and in response, I received a new beam of white color from the Elder Wand.

The beam rushed to my phoenix, resting against the dirty-black defense I had conjured. For a moment, there was parity, but soon the field fell apart, and the beam began to penetrate inside, destroying my other defenses while losing power in the process. A third of the defense was gone. I tried to conduct a self-diagnosis and get rid of the unknown curse that I received after looking at the painting, but I did not feel any effects on myself. Again, I fought the attempt to apparate; this time, I almost got a split.

I cast anti-apparation charms on myself and blocked the movements with a portal, yet my body was still trying to move somewhere. I was wrapped in the most powerful protective charms, as if I were standing in a column of black air. More and more spells flew at Albus and his painting. The Finger of Death—the grey skull rushed towards Albus to shatter in the golden haze that surrounded it. The Breath of Death—the grey tornado dissolved, meeting golden sparks on its way.

But finally, what I was waiting for happened: too much powerful magic was used here, and the dome with which Albus covered the hall began to collapse. Instantly, I felt multiple calls on the Dark Mark—subordinates were trying to clarify how serious everything was. Great, there is a connection, but I still can't leave, and Albus's unknown spells are interfering.

Before I could rejoice, a new sensation enveloped me: I seemed to be standing at the entrance to a huge tunnel. It felt as if I could take a step forward and be transported to an unknown place. Naturally, I did not do this; accepting such an invitation could easily land me in Nurmengard. It occurred to me to try to collapse this tunnel. I threw a number of Dark Magic spells in front of me and noticed with horror that they simply disappeared. Following the spells, all my amulet-grenades met the same fate.

How could I interrupt the almost formed channel of transference? With my left hand, I pulled the time-turner from my neck and threw it in front of me. As soon as it began to dissolve in the air, my spell caught up with it. When the time-turner is destroyed, a cloud of fragments is formed, containing the filling of the time-turner—the Sand of Time.

The Sand of Time quickly dissolves; everything that gets into it ages if not covered with special protection. I hoped that this technique would allow me to eliminate the transition tunnel, but no. The fragments of the time-turner and the sand began to move to an unknown location. But my consent was not needed for the transfer. Active transfer did not help either. I felt myself being pulled somewhere.

I tried to hold on by gluing myself to the floor, piercing the floor a couple of meters down with the help of the Blood Scourge and catching on to the fallen beam with an invisible Whip. But it didn't work: my body instantly deformed, becoming like a "ghost" summoned by the Resurrection Stone, stretching towards Albus at a mind-boggling speed. A moment later, I flew at high speed into the painting in the old man's hands. I expected to find myself in the mouth of a volcano or in Nurmengard. Or at least be shackled, like a posthumous portrait. But Nagini's eyes told me that I was in the landscape painted in the painting!

I quickly checked myself for mental influence. Pure. Then I tried to transfer home by apparation. It didn't work. Moving with a phoenix didn't work either. However, jumping forward ten meters did. I sent a signal to all the marked ones; it went, but it felt like instead of ordinary words, I was trying to communicate with a whale song. The message was so drawn out... I felt the response from the Devourers in the same strange way, and the meaning of the message eluded me.

I launched scanning spells and soon received results. I was on a site a couple of hundred meters in diameter, most of which was lawn and forest. At the edge, there was a structure that looked like a lighthouse. As I moved, I came up against the edge of the area. The edge, exactly—an opaque dome. I couldn't see what was beyond the edge, couldn't get out there, move, or interact with what was theoretically beyond the edge. No life forms were found, other than the microbes I brought with me. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the plants weren't alive—they were simply the fruit of transfiguration, three-dimensional models. Air was present, but it wasn't renewed.

There were two pieces of good news: I could feel the magic; it was flowing through me at its normal speed. And gravity was there. It was highly likely that Albus had managed to create some sort of spatial pocket and shoved me in here. I didn't understand how or why exactly I was here. Either I didn't understand anything about spatial magic, or this isn't really a spatial pocket! I had protective charms that made it impossible to forcibly transport me, and they were there! I wondered if I was maintaining the spatial pocket I was in myself. Would it only collapse with my death or when the energy Albus put in ran out? I really didn't want to find out how I'd feel if space were to shrink to a point.

While I was thinking, I cut myself on my left hand. A few careless waves of my wand conjured two clots of blood that congealed in my empty eye sockets. With the help of magic, you can return the destroyed part if it was not destroyed by Dark Magic. To be honest, it wouldn't be easy with my eyes; I'd have to be blind for a couple of days. It would be possible to restore my eyes faster, but I didn't have any special potions, tools, or victims for the ritual.

Since I couldn't get out of here, I decided to prepare for battle. I drank some potions and put up new defenses. However, nothing happened for about two hours. I had already started testing the strength of the edges of my world again, but the result was the same: any spells, even Unforgivable ones, entered the edge of the world and disappeared somewhere. Runes were drawn on the surface, but they didn't explode or dispel the barrier.

However, the transfigured objects, Nagini, and my body rested against the barrier without receiving any damage. Some kind of spatial anomaly? Albus finally remembered me. I felt my body want to apparate, and I suppressed this desire with difficulty.

This way, you can easily end up in front of a firing squad. I didn't want to go to an unknown place a second time. Most of all, the sensations I was experiencing resembled something between Legilimency and the connection through the Dark Mark. I began to struggle, wanting to stay here, reattaching myself to the ground with the spell of eternal adhesion and numerous magical and material bundles. During a short duel of wills, I realized that today was not my day. A couple more minutes, and I would move again.

Let's say Albus made a container for transporting the Dark Lord. So, this container must be broken—from the inside, out of desperation. I remembered one of the last lessons of my Dark Magic teacher. I cast the spell "Matter Eater." A black blot the size of an apple fell from my wand, which began to destroy everything: trees, earth, air. Only a vacuum remained. At the same time, the blot itself quickly grew, and in a moment was already the size of an elephant. In three seconds, it reached the size of a dragon.

I felt how, as it grew, I was losing more and more magic and how difficult it was to control. Now the blot was the size of a stadium, and it was actively moving. The blackness was growing and moving in a bizarre way, devouring the contents of the surrounding space. The more it destroyed, the weaker the pressure from Albus became. When I destroyed absolutely all the contents, the attempts to pull me out of here stopped.

Now I needed to get rid of the spell; I had never fattened it up to such a size...

A golden spell—if only it could pierce magical shields like that. Straining my will, I sent the blot to the edge of the world, and it disappeared upon touching the edge. So I found myself alone in several cubic miles of empty space. I stayed in place only thanks to self-levitation. There was no more air left; I had to create it with magic. I was alive only thanks to protective spells, including a closed air supply circle.

It's funny—now I am a spherical Dark Lord in a vacuum. Apparently, it's time for me to play astronaut. About three hours later, I managed to get comfortable. I created a magical aquarium, a house made of a single cubic room, three meters long. Inside this room, reinforced with magic and my blood, atmospheric pressure and a breathable gas mixture were maintained. I sat there with Nagini and thought about what to do.

First, I decided to try to reach the Death Eaters, to convince them not to panic and gather the information that was important to me. However, I felt a failure. No, there was a connection, but it resembled a broken radio—an endless whistle of interference. I need to figure out the connection; I'll think of something...