Chapter 88: An Unrelenting Force vs Snake Venom

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Azkaban - Unplottable

Madam Amelia Bones

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Amelia’s breath misted in the frigid air as the Dementors swirled overhead, with their shrieks rising in response to Voldemort’s fury. She raised her wand, readying herself for what was surely going to be the fight of her life, when an armoured and cloaked figure flanked by two robed others suddenly materialised in the space before her and her Aurors. It took all of her training not to cast at the new arrivals instinctively.

Seeing that the robed duo were the Flamels, she knew it was Lord Grey in the now infamous armour in the underworld, thanks to the clearing of the vampires in Littletree.

Before the Death Eaters and Aurors could start killing each other, Lord Grey lifted his gauntleted hand and spoke three words, which caused Amelia to be thankful she accepted his request to experiment on Dementors.

“Expecto Patronum… Diabolica.”

From his wand burst a torrent of white fire, coalescing into a massive dragon Patronus, similar to his Animagus transformation. It was so bright and sudden that most of the green fighters on the battlefield had to cover their eyes momentarily, while the more experienced ones only held a hand up to provide some shade while forcing their eyes to adapt with a subtle application of magic. Amelia watched as its wings stretched wide enough to blot out half the sky as the creature let out a silent roar. Then it lunged at speeds that betrayed its sheer size.

The dragon’s maw snapped around a Dementor, ripping it apart in a spray of silvery fire. Another sweep of its talons shredded three more, causing them to shriek in pain before dissolving into ash-like motes. Wherever the dragon struck, its ghostly white fire fatally damaged a Dementor. And as each Dementor fell, radiant wisps of light that Amelia, while not skilled in the more esoteric aspects of magic, could only think were souls floated gently skyward before vanishing into peace.

“...Sweet mother of Merlin,” someone whispered near her.

The entire battlefield was frozen at the sheer absurdity they were witnessing. Aurors and Death Eaters alike gaped at the sight with disbelief etched on their faces as they witnessed Dementors, creatures every witch and wizard had been taught were untouchable and could only be driven away with a Patronus, along with being immortal, being viciously mauled to death.

In that silence, not including the distant screeching of the dying ‘immortal’ creatures, John’s altered, baritone and almost conversational voice carried for all to hear. “Tom Marvolo Riddle, we need to stop meeting like this.”

Voldemort’s head snapped toward him, narrowing his crimson eyes in fury at the mention of his given name, but Amelia could swear she saw a quick moment of genuine fear behind his eyes.

“Grey…” Voldemort’s voice was a low growl, dripping with venom. Amelia could feel his magic rise, as if to posture his greatness and regain some ground and remind everyone they should fear him and not the new Lord of Littletree. It did little of anything as Lord Grey casually matched the magic to the decimal.

John tilted his helmeted head slightly with appraising curiosity, as though he didn’t even notice the ‘fight’ they just had with magic alone. “I see you’ve acquired a serpent. She looks beautiful.” The snake in question coiled obediently at her master’s feet. Voldemort’s lips curled, seeming ready to gloat about his new companion or about his army’s liberation, but John continued. “You should know… I’ve already dealt with the rest of your little fragments, including the diary. The snake is the only one left. I did it in a way that would make sure you wouldn’t know you had lost it.”

That was all Amelia nd Dumbledore needed to know that the snake was a Horcrux. The last Horcrux.

While her Aurors and the Death Eaters were confused and out of the loop, the words seemed to hit Riddle like a hammer blow. His crimson eyes flared wide in shock before twisting into unbridled rage, and like Amelia would expect from a Dark Lord after finding out a piece of his soul had been destroyed, a snarl tore from his throat as he practically yelled. “Avada Kedavra!”

The jet of sickly green light ripped across the courtyard toward the young Lord, but neither Dumbledore nor the Flamels seemed to be bothered in the slightest. And the boy simply raised a gauntleted hand while Aurors flinched, thinking the spell would destroy the armour like it does any object that is used to block it, damaging the boy’s arm at worst. The boy would survive, but would be severely hurt. 

As some of the Aurors flinched and Death Eaters leaned forward with anticipation, hoping the spell would be the true start of the following carnage, only for the curse to freeze inches from his palm, suspended in mid-air. Its malignant energy was writhing uselessly as if struggling against invisible chains binding it to its place. 

The unnatural green light reflected in every eye present, with horror dawning on faces that had never seen such defiance of the inevitable, and only distant Dementor’s screams to be heard. The boy’s voice carried across the courtyard once more, this time sounding almost patronising. “Tom, the only way that spell will work on me… is if I am caught off guard. The chances of which happening are near impossible, and become even more so the more I grow.”

His fingers closed slightly, and the curse dissipated into nothing, like smoke snuffed out by the wind. The stunned silence held for a beat, until Voldemort’s face twisted with such rage it was nearly unrecognisable. He whipped his wand forward, ready to unleash another volley, but John was faster.

Like he did with the killing curse, he casually lifted his gauntleted hand, and blue-white arcs of lightning erupted in a storm that illuminated the battlefield like a violent thunderclap, screaming toward Voldemort.

Amelia watched with some barely hidden glee while Voldemort’s scarlet eyes widened as he was forced to defend, unable to dodge in time due to the sheer speed of the attack. His wand slashed through the air, redirecting the brunt of the lightning into the ground while throwing up a shimmering shield to absorb the rest. The deflected bolts scattered wildly, striking several Death Eaters too slow to react. They convulsed, letting out screams which were cut short as they collapsed, while smoke rose from their robes.

“Redirecting instead of relying entirely on your shield. Clever,” The young Lord tilted his head. “And whatever rituals you used to bolster your reflexes, also clever. Otherwise, you’d already be ash.”

The fact that he was speaking so casually while so many people around him were essentially ready to start the beginnings of a war was a little disconcerting. But, like everyone else standing in the courtyard, she would allow the oddities of the most powerful people on her side, for their contribution alone.

Voldemort’s breathing quickened as his fury boiled into barely contained madness. His wand snapped toward his followers. “Kill him! Somebody kill him!” He took a moment to look around at her, Dumbledore and the Flamels before getting louder. “KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!”

His eyes locked back on Grey's form. Behind his fury, his body angled just enough to shield Nagini while his magical aura shrank, somewhat protectively, as if to conserve magic in case of another lightning strike. The change in the battle of auras snapped the Death Eaters out of their stupor, eliciting their raised wands with shaking hands to unleash a storm of curses.

But, with the initial win under their belt, Amelia and her Aurors had smiles on their faces as they raised their own wands to fire back. They knew they were on the winning side after, and that short back and forth between a teenager and a failed Dark Lord alone was enough to bolster their confidence significantly. Even if they were to die, they would die knowing that yet another child was able to humiliate their opponent.

Before a spell could actually be cast, Grey’s voice thundered with words not mere sound, but a force that cracked the very stones beneath their feet. “FUS RO DAH!”

The shout erupted like a tidal wave, tearing through the battlefield with cataclysmic power. Amelia barely had enough balance to maintain her eye contact with the other side, just enough to witness the shockwave of Grey’s spell shredding the front ranks of Death Eaters, disintegrating their bodies into ash mid-scream. The rest were hurled back like rag dolls, smashing into the fortress walls and leaving small blots of red or tumbling across the ground, with their cries lost in the thunder crack and ringing in her ear.

It all happened so fast that no one could react. While she had been witness to some of the battles between Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix against Death Eaters back in the first war, she was at least able to see what was happening between the old man and Voldemort. She even reacted to spells in time to defend herself from attacks when the snakey fucker would think she was distracted. 

But now, she would not have been able to realise what hit her before she made contact with the wall, let alone defend herself in time. She didn't even know what the shouted spell even was. All she had to go off was the rumours of three words being spoken before he summoned a large dragon to aid the Dwarves in killing vampires in Littletree.

Refocusing her thoughts, she could see that only Voldemort stood his ground, if only barely. His shield, whatever alteration of a shield spell, was blazing as he seemed to be pouring every ounce of focus into surviving the force of the Grey’s spell. It was layered several times with multiple hexagonal-shaped individual shields reinforcing each other, most of which had cracks in them or were outright broken and disappearing into nothingness.

Even then, he was still staggering back, his robes torn, his wand-hand trembling from the effort, and Amelia could see some blood running down just over his eyebrow. She could see the hole in the shield where it seemed something might have made it through. Whether it was a spell cast by Grey while the thunder push spell was taking effect, or if it was just a rock flung with so much force by the spell that it forced its way through a weak point, she would never know.

The courtyard fell silent again, save for the howling wind and waves meeting the shore. There wasn’t even a single peep being made by the dying Dementors overhead. She only later realised that they had either all been massacred by the burning white ethereal dragon, or had run from fear of their own demise. Something Riddle no doubt would have done already, if it wasn’t for the Anti-Apparition wards still holding and seemingly now being reinforced by the Flamels.

Aurors stared in disbelief. Death Eaters, battered and bloodied, scrambled to their feet, eyes darting between their master and the armoured figure who had just done what they thought was the impossible. For the first time since his return, Voldemort looked less like a god to them, who could defy death itself… and more like a man faced with something significantly greater than himself, with seemingly no way to overcome it.

The spell may have damaged Riddle, but his crimson eyes still burned with fury hot enough to melt through his momentary fear as he straightened his spine. “You think that borrowed power makes you my equal?” he hissed, carrying his voice across the now heavily damaged battlefield. But no one cared if the power was borrowed, as long as it worked. “You are nothing but a pretender, hiding behind armour like a coward!”

His wand snapped up, spitting out curses in quick succession. A cutting curse split the air, a blasting hex aimed low to shatter the ground beneath the boy, and a Killing Curse riding behind both, a layered attack that had felled countless foes before. Amelia could sense he was manipulating his magic for another volley based on the boy genius’s reaction though, knowing the initial volley would amount to as much as a Dementor against his enhanced Patronus.

Grey barely moved. A tilt of the wrist of his gauntlet unravelled the cutting curse into harmless sparks, while his other hand absorbed the blasting hex mid-flight before redirecting and enhancing the explosion back at Voldemort, forcing him to roll aside with surprising agility.

The Killing Curse froze inches from John’s chest as he raised his hand again, dissipating it with a dismissive flick. “Tom,” Grey said, sounding almost… bored, “You already tried that. Why exactly did you think it would work this time?”

Voldemort’s face contorted . He slashed his wand in a vicious arc, summoning ropes of black fire that writhed like serpents. The heat singed the air, drawing gasps from the Aurors who had seen it a decade ago as they were forced to watch their comrades meet their end.

Grey responded with a sweep of his gauntlet, unleashing a storm of his white-blue lightning that tore through the cursed fire as if it were smoke. The backlash struck Voldemort squarely in the chest, hurling him backwards into the stone steps of Azkaban’s gate. But his regeneration must have been enhanced by a master ritualist because he just snarled, forcing himself upright with smoke curling from his robes.

Meanwhile, Amelia and her Aurors finally decided to pull their heads out of their arses and pressed their advantage. No longer paralysed by fear, they surged forward with precision. Stunners, body-binds, and disarming spells cut down the scattered Death Eaters before they could regroup. 

The Flamels moved like dancers amidst the chaos, with Nicolas transfiguring debris into a dozen serpents of steel that coiled around three Death Eaters at once, binding them immobile. While Perenelle flicked her wand, sending a shimmering net of enchanted light to pin another group, muffling their screams as the magic smothered their curses mid-word.

Soon enough, with the aid of the Flamels and Headmaster, wands clattered across the stone as all the still living Death Eaters were bound one by one.

All around him, his little ‘army’, if it could even be called that, was being crushed while its master fought desperately to hold his ground.

The Dark Lord himself raised his wand high, summoning a storm of spectral skulls covered in emerald fire. They shrieked as they dove toward Lord Grey in a torrent of death. But the young Lord would have none of it.

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

The world seemed to hold its breath as a blast of white hot flames roared from his throat, colliding with the emerald skulls mid-air, obliterating them in a cataclysmic burst of light and continuing toward the snake Lord. Sadly, he seemed to use magic to move his body far from the blast at breakneck speeds to make up fr his current inability to apparate, thanks to the barriers in place. 

The heat washed over the courtyard, forcing even Aurors to shield their faces. When the flames cleared, Voldemort stood hunched, panting, with his robes charred and his pale skin marred by burns and soot. His eyes were still burning with hate, but there was also something that seemed to be more enhanced the more time he spent around Lord Grey.

Fear.

Grey took his first step forward since the bout started, crunching shattered stone under his armoured boots, deflecting another desperate volley of curses like he did the others, as though they were no more threatening than sparks from a hearth. “You’ve had decades, Tom,” his voice was again amplified by his helm. “Decades of study. Decades of rituals. And still, you did all of that, and couldn’t even draw a drop of blood.”

“RaaAAAHH!” Voldemort screamed in fury, unleashing a massive torrent of Fiendfyre shaped like a colossal serpent. Its maw gaped, as it immediately barrelled toward Grey, foregoing the usual posturing of presenting its casters might, as was Voldemort’s M.O.

The desperation was getting real. But Grey just raised a hand and forced his will on reality itself. The fiery serpent writhed, frozen mid-lunge before collapsing into harmless embers that guttered out on the stone.

“A combination of the general counter-spell, Finite, and some telekinesis," he casually explained, as if teaching a class. Nicolas Flamel, still standing by his side, brought a hand to his chin in thought, nodding along like he was following an impromptu lesson from a master.

“What the bloody fuck is goin’ on,” Amelia heard an awed whisper of one of her subordinates. “The bloody fucker’s not even usin’ a blasted wand, hasn’t been since he arrived.”

Grey once again pointed his finger tips at Riddle, releasing his lightning spell in crackling arcs. Voldemort tried to raise a shield, but the electric energy hit like a thunderstorm, slamming into him with such force that his body convulsed, forcing him to drop his wand as he screamed. The sound was raw and agonised as he collapsed to one knee.

This time, Grey didn’t wait for him to regain his bearings, he used the lightning spell again, but for a longer duration. And Riddle was once again letting out guttural screams as he convulsed on the floor. He then went on to do it over and over, until even the Aurors were wincing at the torturous treatment, but none would step in to stop the treatment. Just because they winced, it didn’t mean they didn’t think the man didn’t deserve it, after all.

A whole half an hour later, the once-feared Dark Lord was completely broken, even crying like there was no tomorrow.

Grey, seemingly satisfied, or at least from what his body language allowed through his armour, approached, with his dragon Patronus now dissipating, as if indicating an end to the evening's affairs. Voldemort wasn’t even trying to reach for his wand any more, like he did the first few times he was hit with lightning. His scarlet eyes were wide with panic as they flicked up toward Grey.

“W–wait,” Voldemort stammered, his voice cracking, stripped of all its icy control. “Grey, p-please, wait. S-spare me. I… I yield.”

The plea echoed across the courtyard, bringing vindictive smiles to the faces of the Aurors as they stared on. Death Eaters, the ones that were still conscious, shrank back as they saw their master grovel, begging like a beaten dog.

Grey’s helm tilted down toward him impassively as he summoned chains that snapped around Voldemort’s limbs, binding him to the ground, while his dropped wand floated neatly into Grey’s waiting hand. The snake, having been purposefully excluded from the lightning torture, hissed as it coiled to strike, but with another gesture, Grey conjured a reinforced cage of gleaming runed steel that snapped shut around her. The serpent thrashed, fangs bouncing uselessly against the enchanted bars, but achieved nothing in its escape attempt.

“If you try anything,” Grey’s altered baritone voice cut through the air. “If you so much as think of slithering your way out in any way, shape or form,” he gestured to the serpent in the cage, ”it will be the last thing you do.”

Voldemort bowed his head, shaking, unable to meet John’s gaze. Like a dog in front of an alpha, the Dark Lord of Britain was trying his best to look small. But Amelia’s sharp mind was already racing. She glanced at the shattered gates of Azkaban, at the bound Death Eaters strewn across the courtyard, then she looked back at Grey. “What would you have us do with him?”

Every Auror within earshot leaned in, waiting for Grey’s answer. Voldemort himself twitched at the words, darting his scarlet eyes upward in a flash of terror before sinking back down in silence.

“You will be taking him to a trial, one with the use of truth potion, and asking him all the questions about his subordinates and criminal activities,” Grey ordered, for it sounded like nothing else, and Amelia listened, like he was her superior, which, in all intents and purposes, he was, in everything but age. “It will be done today, with no time or delay for his sympathisers to muster up a plan. Then he will die.”

Amelia just nodded, not even bothering to ask how the Dark Lord would die. Riddle, too exhausted and in pain, did nothing but twitch from time to time… and cry, with snot even running down his face.

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“Tom, the only way that spell will work on me… is if I am caught off guard. The chances of which happening are near impossible.”

— Emperor Johnathan Grey, during the battle of Azkaban.

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Hello There

I was going for a Maul/Sidious meeting from the Clone Wars, but with magic. You could probably tell with the Force Lightning at the end of Voldy’s spanking.

That's the last Horcrux too. Gonna be game over for the snake.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original character and ideas. All credit goes to their respective owners.

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Thank you for reading.

As always, stay awesome.

Until next time, Light's out.