Chapter 34: The Ritual for Diana Crouch

The Lovegoods' capture went smoothly. The second Dumbledore appeared at Crouch's manor, Edward, Rodolphs and I quietly dismantled the Lovegoods' rather average wards, set up anti-transgression charms and entered their home under concealment charms. Two Imperios, two shield penetrators and three stunners later, the family moved to a new permanent residence. Their disappearance would not alarm anyone: under Imperius, Xenophilius left a note explaining that they took an urgent trip to the continent to search for crumple-horned snorkaks.

Problems began to emerge shortly afterwards. First, their child Luna was younger than Harry Potter. We had to stick them all into one comfortable cell where they could care for the kid.

Second, the interrogations ground to a halt at the very start. Neither of them resisted the Imperius or Veritaserum, but it felt like interrogating mental patients: wrackspurts, nargles, snorkaks. It was wilder than witnessing Barty's drug-induced hallucinations.

I entered their memories and saw all these imaginary creatures first-hand. Wrackspurts were glowing objects shaped like crumpled paper that lived in people's heads. And a crumple-horned snorkak was an erumpent that in "Lovegood sight" looked nothing like it should. The Dark Lord came to believe in wrackspurts, could it be used as a psychological weapon? And what properties did these snorkaks have? The Lovegoods had yet to find one… The space around us also buzzed with some distorted abominations worthy of Salvador Dali's brush… The world through Lovegoods' eyes was an incredibly uncanny place.

Aside from the obvious hypotheses that they were insane and seeing the same hallucination or suffered from the same undiagnosable magical illness, I could only speculate that it was a unique type of magical sight. Or a magical sight defect, where the brain created these outlandish creatures to make sense of the visions. The Lestranges have never heard of anything remotely similar.

The Lovegoods' child was the most "normal" of them all, despite being a little over a year old and still wetting herself. She switched between normal sight, magical sight and "Lovegood sight" at will.

Next came Xenophilius Lovegood: he could use ordinary human sight and "Lovegood sight." In his pockets we found a symbol of the Hallows and notes detailing their search efforts. I should visit a couple of graves in Godric's Hollow. Maybe the Resurrection Stone would help me chat up Ignotus? The grave dated 1291 was too old for standard methods, but I'll think of something. The best idea so far was tying the Resurrection Stone with blood during the summer solstice. In the meantime, my servants can steal his body. How fortunate that wizards didn't favor cremation!

Finally, Pandora Lovegood was truly strange. Even with the Imperius, the Lestranges and I failed to force her to switch from "Lovegood sight." And while her husband drew on his abilities to create original puzzles for his magazine, she used them to craft spells.

A while ago, when I was reviewing the literature Tom wrote off as useless (and in this case I fully agreed), I kept wondering who were all these idiots creating spells for folding a dragon's tongue or conjuring tiny pink rollers on human nose hair. Now I found the answer. But a more pertinent question was, could this ability be weaponized? How safe was it? Should I try developing it in myself or always keep Imperio'd Pandora with me as a live detector?

One thing for sure, Pandora was incredibly lucky. She tested most of her inventions on herself, including the spells for partial self-transfiguration. A wizard could become an animagus and turn into one nonmagical animal, though Tom never saw the point of it. But attempts to turn into different animals, including imaginary ones? She should have died ten times over!

In a long and grueling legilimency session, I eventually reached the memories of the Lovegoods' youth, when they were relatively sane. Xenophilius' parents, the editors of The Morning Astral magazine, taught them how to reach the "astral plane." What I had was three wizards who entered this plane to varying extent. Their memories gave me a direction to work in.

With the help of the Imperius and several mental magic techniques, I tried forcing prisoners to restructure their magical sight to be more "Lovegood-like." It resulted in monstrous constructs of energy channels around the eyes and brain that resembled a spiderweb with intricate knots of multicolored "threads" at every intersection. I expected to be done in a week, but this was shaping up to be at least a month worth of experiments… And I had no idea how much energy this sight took to activate and use. What if it burned out the eyes?

It was foolish of me to hope for a simple, universal mental battle spell. Yet again, a ton of work to be done…

Time to pick up the Time-Turner. Tom used one a couple of times and knew the safety protocols. I also questioned Rookwood: training in the past was completely safe as long as one did not alter any key events.

Having used the Time-Turner, I-2 went to interrogate Crouch Sr. He resisted but not well enough. Of course, he was physically unable to reveal some information, and a large part of it, such as DMLE passwords and shift schedules, would quickly become outdated. But he did tell me the names of his most promising employees and the names of everyone whose loyalty he doubted.

In addition to the Ministry's secrets, he was spilling his own. Just to think, he was using an illegal Time-Turner to observe crimes! So brilliantly simple. Maybe I should try it? No, too dangerous: it was a miracle Crouch didn't stumble into a time loop.

I have been particularly struck by two of his memories. Crouch decided to investigate Albus because he saw me leave Amelia Bones' murder scene by phoenix! And he left the memory with a confidant, meaning it was safe! We could now frame Albus's search as retaliation.

The second memory did not encourage: a nuclear explosion the day I fought the Aurors in Diagon. My alternative past self must have resorted to desperate measures and died… Barty Jr's reaction proved it. But Albus survived! How?! Escaped by phoenix?

I did not take the news of my demise well but wisely decided that killing everyone in sight was not as good of an idea as it first seemed. I had to be more careful and not think myself invincible.

This interrogation was going to take a while- Crouch Sr. was a treasure trove of information. And I could always use enemy blood..

After another two turns, I-3 began drawing runes with my blood on Diana Crouch's unconsciois body in preparation for the ritual. I resented being distracted from more important work, but she would not last much longer. I'll think of what to do with her later… Let her continue sleeping or find her a Prince Charming.

I-4 was reviewing everyone's memories of the fight in the pensieve in search of interesting spells. Only Albus showed anything new. I decided to puzzle out the modified stunning and blasting charms first. The rest of his arsenal promised to be much more problematic…

I-5 tested myself for the amount of "necroenergy" accumulated during the battle. It was a lot. An awful lot. More than the total I gained in the entire time since October 31st… Shooting Avadas and Crucios like a machine gun may not have been the brightest idea, but there was no other choice. I still did not know the critical amount. The good news was that my clearance speed hasn't changed. What determined it? Maybe Dumbledore binged on candy for a reason? Experiments on prisoners under Imperius showed cleansing potions, spells and specialized diets had no effect. They even tried prayers to every known deity, from Odin and Yahweh to Death itself- all for naught…

Salazar Slytherin was a legendary Dark wizard, yet he didn't go off the rails until the very end of his life. Forget Salazar: Tom was more or less sane after four horcruxes and years of Dark Magic abuse! The problem only became noticeable within the last few years. I was in no immediate danger.

The latest unexpected breakthroughs were further reassuring. A transfigured animal killing someone caused no negative effects to its creator! And neither did leaving someone to die from asphyxiation in a sealed room! Was that the reason Grindelwald toyed around with gas chambers? It seemed I would need to become a specialist in indirect murders. Oh my, what a tragic accident: the rabid hippogriff I happened to bring along tore someone apart…

Tom was a prodigious practitioner of Dark Magic. If anyone else tried to create multiple horcruxes, they would certainly not make it past two or three. What I really lacked was theory. There were two main hopes: accessing the closed off section of the Blacks' library and busting Grindelwald out of prison. He should be no match for me after forty years of Nurmengard. Maybe I could convince him help to me, to take revenge on Albus with my hands?

In the meantime, a prisoner under Bella's Imperius can test another method…

I-6 was reading newspapers. The slaughter at Crouch's manor dominated the headlines, the truth few and far between. The interesting tidbits included the Unspeakables closing off the area. In hindsight, it was expected: not even I used magic with perfect efficiency, some energy always spilled into the surroundings. Considering what transpired near Crouch's house, it would have been better off with an actual curse.

The Ministry scheduled new hearings for everyone Crouch Sr. sent to Azkaban. Nearly all were guilty but imprisoned without evidence. Albus would either release them into my service or illegally leave them in prison… After all, involuntary legilimency or Veritaserum required a probable cause… We should set up a charity: everyone sentenced to Azkaban is entitled to legal representation!

I-7 was conducting a very interesting experiment. Having taken Veritaserum, I answered questions voiced by a recording of my voice. Of course, everything took place in my home under Fidelius and multiple additional confidentiality charms.

Some results were unexpected. I was saying the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but the answers strangely conflated my present and past lives… For example, I didn't kill the Prewetts and McKinnons… And I knew just how to use it.

I-8 was staging a play. The wizards' main weakness lay in their reliance on magic. They would check my memories magically, and it cost me nothing to deceive them.

I have seen more than enough of Lily's memories to reconstruct the interior of the Potters' house. The hardest part imitating the view from the windows- it took a quality dynamic illusion. A prisoner under Imperius and facial illusions took on the role of James Potter… And then, action:

The horrible Voldemort enters the house.

"Lily, take Harry and run!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Faux-James demonstrates incredible battle reflexes and dodges the killing curse but ends up on the floor. He would never get up again. With nonverbal legilimency, I enter his mind and find multiple compulsions. He dies the moment I break them. I laugh and turn to walk upstairs…

Stop. That should do it. I had to begin "whitewashing" myself. If this test version of evidence convinces Lily, then it was ready for mass distribution.

Lily Potter, unknowingly measuring necroenergy with Voldemort-9

Lily Potter's world was falling apart. Everything used to be so clear and simple: bad Death Eaters and good Order, good Albus and the embodiment of evil You-Know-Who. Slavery to the Dark Lord changed nothing, only made her pray harder that someone would kill him.

The first crack in her black-and-white worldview came with the removal of compulsions and the subsequent events at Godrick's Hollow. She tried to convince herself it was all an elaborate performance. The Lord only laughed and praised her reality-denial skills.

The second crack spread from watching Aberforth's memories. She should have believed Bathilda. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald were planning to conquer the world together! Dumbledore kept his sister prisoner in their own home and would have abandoned his family if Aberforth hadn't stopped him from leaving with Grindelwald! When Dumbledore got in a fight with Grindelwald, he readily used Dark Magic, and one of his Avadas killed Ariana! And he not only avoided punishment but was never even prosecuted…

Lily thoroughly checked the memories for tampering. Sadly, they were completely authentic. Next to that, the revelations about Dumbledore "the lover of equality" owning the Elder Wand and sparing Grindelwald's life didn't seem that significant. The Lord said Dumbledore took pity on his lover…

But that was not what finally and irrevocably blew her mind. When the Dark Lord was checking her latest batch of potions, he paralyzed Lily in her chair. He sat across from her, took the Veritaserum she brewed and began answering questions read by the house elf.

"Are you Lord Voldemort?" the elf asked.

"Yes."

"Did you kill Alice and Frank Longbottom?"

"Yes."

"Does killing bring you pleasure?"

"No."

"Do you hate muggles or muggleborns?"

"No."

"Did you kill James Potter?"

"No."

As the Dark Lord explained, James was a highly trained Auror. He dodged the Avada but fell to wandless legilimency. The Lord noticed compulsions similar to the ones he later found in Lily and immediately broke them all. James died from built-in compulsion safeguards… The Lord only laughed at Dumbledore's hypocrisy and moved on.

Lily didn't want to believe it, but it was getting harder by the day. She feared what it meant for her. The Lord said that once they win she will be free to stay a Death Eater on the same conditions or take Harry and her earnings (the Lord began paying her for brewing potions!) and go wherever she pleases.

Lily was extremely disappointed with her occlumency progress. Today, the Lord noticed her doubting his chances of winning. To prove her wrong, he showed her one of his memories: a battle with Dumbledore.

It was… horrible… His duel with Rosier did not come close to this! The Dark Lord was invincible, stunners did not affect him, his wounds closed the moment they appeared. Dumbledore could do nothing, the Order survived only thanks to Ministry reinforcements. And what was that black smoke? Material objects passed right through it…

Lily used to think wizards were no match for muggle armed forces. What could they pit against a supersonic jet shelling them with rockets from six miles in the air? Now she was far from sure…

At the last meeting, she again made a speech the Lord dictated in her mind. They were discussing controlling muggles and muggleborns after the war. Rosier presented a "brilliant" plan: raising ritual victims under Imperius or with permanently damaged brains at specially designed "livestock" farms… He was backed by Mulciber and the Carrows (Lily finally memorized everyone's names). And it was not a simple 'let's do this thing' kind of pitch. He scrupulously thought out every little detail: number and locations of the camps, delivery schedules, resource estimates, population sizes, required staff… which would include dementors…

Lily repeated the Lord's words, which essentially boiled down to simple "let's say we kill them all or turn them into cattle. Then who is going to do all the work?" Suddenly, she received the support of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Crouch Jr. (his father was wanted on charges of Dark Magic use!). Then Dolohov argued that concentration camps could not be operated in complete secrecy, and waging a full-scale war required an army the wizards haven't had in centuries. In best case scenario, they would recruit a division the level of Hogwarts seventh years, only a battalion of them pureblood. The Lord endorsed Dolohov, the Lestranges backed him. The radicals were left in the minority. And they all blamed Lily! It was very unsettling to see thirst for retribution in the four Dark wizards' eyes. Her status of the Lord's student helped, but she wanted to be able to defend herself. What difference would it make if her death is avenged?

When she was a little girl, Lily could slow her fall from a swing and move flower petals. She tried to remember how she did it, but wandless magic eluded her… Well, at least she was making great progress in her defense studies. There were no Ridiculuses or any other specialized charms: as Snape said, everything burns. Her arsenal broadened by half a dozen fire-based spells. Anything that refused to burn got chopped into pieces by her water whip or banished if there was no flesh to be destroyed.

Snape… Disgusting traitor. She hated him more than the Lord! She knew she could only defeat Snape if he stood in place and limited himself to Protego and Stupefy. It was infuriating!

But she had an ace up her sleeve: her new wand. It was difficult to use for anything non-combat, let alone healing. Even simple Vingardium Leviosa has become exponentially harder. Her new wand was not an instrument, it was a weapon. It longed for battle and Dark spells, correcting Lily's small mistakes on its own. Holding this wand felt like holding a cobra: a venomous, lethal thing capable only of destruction. But it was her cobra. Every time Lily felt hatred or malice during her sparring with Snape, the wand warmed to the touch and amplified her spells. At times, she sensed something powerful trying to push its way out of the wand, begging her to release it.

Lily was not stupid. She understood that everything that has happened since October 31st was a setup. She didn't know how or why, but Voldemort was behind it all.

Snape she could understand. That filthy bastard, she itched to put him under the Cruciatus every time she remembered that memory of him asking to "leave her" for him. But what did the Dark Lord want with her? Did he really only want another loyal bootlicker? She saw his fight with Albus, she was nothing against such power. What choice did she have? Only crying herself to sleep every night and hoping that next time someone is after Harry, she can defend him instead of begging.

"Elena, quit daydreaming and focus on your task," the Dark Lord said.

Today, the Lord ordered her to assist him in research. She wanted to protest and was already thinking of the punishment she would face for it, but it turned out that "research" meant standing in a runic circle and throwing school spells at the wall. What would be the point of refusing? The only disconcerting bit was seeing the Lord slaughter sheep in another circle and occasionally cut himself…

He explained that sacrifice acted as an external charge, where the volume and malleability of energy depended on the material and the wizard performing the ritual. In other words, killing people left and right was not necessary- animals or one's own blood sufficed. After all, she already ate meat, wrote on parchment and owned a leather purse…

She knew it really was a wall and sheep- the Lord allowed her to check. It was odd to see the Dark Lord acting so considerate. And he claimed the goal of this research was simplifying the permanent enhancement ritual he performed on her, making it accessible to his faithful…

Time to get back to work. Next up on the list… partial transfiguration into a sea urchin? All right…

I-10 was rifling through papers and reading legends. No one knew where Salazar lived, and "swamplands to the East" was too vague.

I found one promising lead: one of his descendants, Isolt Sayre, ran away to America with a muggleborn and later founded Ilvermorny. She left behind a still living witness - the local horned serpent. Time for me to visit Ilvermorny through the Board's foreign exchange program. As for convincing the snake to cooperate… So far, my best idea was to offer it a mate. It worked on Snape, right?

Ilvermorny also had one extremely valuable item on exhibit: Isolt Sayre's wand, crafted by Slytherin himself from snakewood and basilisk crown horn. No, I did not need the wand itself. Ollivander was a true master of his craft, and Slytherin's wand could not outperform its owner. I wanted it for another reason: Priori Incantatem. I would try pulling out the last or, ideally, all of the spells Slytherin cast with it.

By the way, wizards were occasionally buried with their wands… It would be a good idea to task house elves or young recruits with digging up graves and searching for new spells in the owners' wands. I had a list of casualties in the war with Grindelwald around here somewhere…

Slytherin was clearly a genius: he protected his wand with a Parseltongue password. The possibility of someone using my wand worried me, so I wanted to learn how he did it. Though Slytherin's wand no longer worked and only had a historical value, it was Ollivander's problem.

And while my servants prepare the request, I better look into other legends. The Hallows truly existed, maybe there was something else worth pursuing?

Bellatrix Lestrange, unknowingly measuring necroenergy with Voldemort-11

Bellatrix Lestrange felt conflicted. On one hand, she was ecstatic to have become closer to her Lord. He used to Crucio everyone personally but now entrusted it to her! More than that, he gave her the pureblood Longbottom child to raise into a worthy wizard. In response to her question about the prophecy, the Dark Lord only laughed and told her not to mistreat the boy. The prophecy was pure nonsense: what was a little boy, however pureblood, next to the Dark Lord who intimidated an entire country? He said that if Neville grew up and wanted to kill him, he would take measures. Most likely tell Bellatrix to spank out the stupidity… And Bellatrix got attached to the boy. His round cheeks were so adorable! Just like a giant hamster's! She's been overfeeding him a little, but that was hardly important.

The Lord had gone through another metamorphosis that made him… more handsome. Just like in his younger years. Of course, Master was always flawless, but this was even better!

But in other ways, things have gotten worse. Bellatrix struggled to understand the reasons behind her Lord's recent actions. The changes in him did not stop with appearance. He was searching for a new, better wand. Under the cover of Rabastan, he began studying every imaginable type of magic and searching for the Slytherin ancestral source. He explained that it was no longer enough for him to be the Dark Lord; he wanted to become the Lord of Magic. Bellatrix dearly wished she knew what that meant. No books mentioned it…

Her body was casting the familiar spells almost automatically, and the Lord was taking some measurements. Research and runes were not her forte, so she didn't ask why she was using such powerful curses on restrained prisoners. If the Dark Lord said so, then it must be done. She would think about it later.

Bellatrix received a good pureblood education, and something bothered her. Finding a family source was only half the work, he would then need to connect to it. Salazar Slytherin could not have been an idiot and obviously left a magical will. In noble families, the standard requirements included shared blood and political views, being magically strong, and having at least one pureblood or halfblood child.

And recently, she had an epiphany.

The Dark Lord brought a number of pureblood women to the manor. Diana Crouch. He personally began treating her illness even though Rosier or Edward would have managed on their own. Pandora Lovegood. She was a few kinds of sick in the head, but talking to her wasn't necessary. They were preparing to capture Andromeda. Even though the target was the metamorphmagus girl, the Dark Lord handpicked only those who leaned towards less lethal magic to participate in the operation.

Bellatrix used to have no doubts: she was her Master's favorite. But not now. The new girl. Elena. This very moment, the Dark Lord was conducting a similar experiment with Elena under a Time-Turner. And while Bellatrix was getting winded after two hours of intense Dark Magic, Elena walked out like she was throwing around Expelliarmuses.

The Dark Lord was spending an awful lot of time with that girl. And after watching Rosier carried out of the rink, Bellatrix had to admit: the girl was good.

Her soul stirred with anger. Sensing it, her wand ceased breaking the muggle's bones one by one and instantly crushed the whole body. It felt as though she squeezed a wine glass too hard, to the point of grinding it into sand…

"Bella, less energy, please. I want to look at the signal from minimal Dark Magic damage," the Lord said.

"Yes, Master," she answered. She wanted to bluntly tell him "Master, I'm better than her!" but bit her tongue and reinforced her occlumency block. Although the Dark Lord was an incredibly powerful legiliment, he would not find anything without either diving too deep or knowing precisely where to look. In truth, Bellatrix had problems with… fertility. But she was a Black! There was no problem that could not be solved with a good sacrifice. If it failed, then there were not enough victims. Or the material was bad. Replace muggles with wizards, sheep with unicorns. Or, as a last resort, sacrifice yourself…

I-12 was speaking to Snape who came to spy as Dumbledore ordered. What disinformation would assuage the old man's suspicions and not cost me anything valuable? I settled on leaking Rosier's concentration camp plans. They would never come to fruition anyway.

Adding concentration camps was an idiotic idea. Why deprive myself of future recruits and sabotage my own feeding grounds? Besides, they too had teeth… And when I seize power but none of Albus's warnings come to pass -no mudblood registries, no taking away their wands- any remaining faith in the old man will be obliterated.

I-13 was standing in Ollivander's room, watching him work and scanning his thoughts. That's right, a room. Fairly large and furnished, only locked with a strong door and lacking windows. The old wandmaker had earned better accommodations. We will eventually free him and pay for all the work he's done. After winning, of course.

I got to witness an amazing sight: Ollivander at a loss. He was numbly shuffling around his instruments and staring at the ingredients. No, he was not under Imperius or Confundus. I gave him a special ingredient: feathers of the phoenix named Nagini. And now Ollivander was fitfully trying to understand what was wrong with them. I wanted to see what would happen if they were used in a wand.

I-14 was speaking to Lucius in the guise of Elena. I really wanted to hit him with the Cruciatus: an hour and a half of the two allotted by the Time-Turner already passed, and he had yet to get to the point.

"I was struck with awe at your performance against the Aurors at Diagon!" Malfoy sang like a bird, "I wanted to meet you in person for so long! I thought you were actually much older and not as beautiful. A kind of wise, worldly woman with many secrets! If your face were not covered with a mask during raids, all enemies would be defeated before the fight!"

It took me seventy minutes to wandlessly and unnoticeably weasel into his mind past all the amulets. He wanted Elena to help him break his one-child curse and thought that a generous helping of flattery would land him a better deal.

Was there anything in it for me? Riddle's memories said no. Especially since I was no specialist in curse breaking. But I did plan on increasing the wizarding population. What other alternatives were there, a sperm bank fraud?

But in all seriousness - how did this infertility curse work? Maybe I could develop something just as persistent to curse Albus?

Finally, Lucius made his offer:

"… if you want to see whether you are strong enough to remove the Malfoy family curse, know that many have already tried. They all failed. Though if you succeeded, the glory of your power would be unprecedented," Malfoy said as if in passing.

Funny. Was that his attempt to convince me to work for free?

I took a piece of parchment and began writing down the price. I had a fairly good estimate of Malfoy's worth and didn't demand too much. His cheery mood was evaporating with every zero he watched me write, but he showed no outward signs of it.

"On top of this, I will need a history of all your attempts to break the curse, full access to your family library and a Time-Turner," I said.

" Bitch," I clearly heard in his mind. He agreed to pay the full amount after a brief, almost half-hearted attempt at haggling, agreed to describe their work on the curse in exchange for secrecy vows, and refused the rest.

I very transparently hinted that he can take his conditions and go bargain with someone else. If it must be me, I wanted half of the money upfront, and the only vows in play would be him vowing not to tell anyone or mention this deal to me without my permission.

Lucius's thought were a jumbled mess. He was certain I was trying to swindle him. I couldn't promise him success, but I was honestly going to try my best.

"And how do you plan on approaching the curse?" he asked.

"What do you know about homunculi and embryos, Lucius?" I caught myself just in time not to add 'my slippery friend.'

"The hopes that the destructive energy would spread on multiple bastards did not bear any fruit. The curse allows a single child, period. For another child to be born, the first must die. Homunculi… You want to grow artificial humans and deplete the curse by ending their lives? We tried that already, it didn't work."

"No. A voluntary sacrifice of shared blood would work best here. Have you tried weakening the curse with ritual suicides?"

"Over the centuries, there were only two such volunteers," Malfoy replied. "And they did it already on their deathbeds."

"I am going to try to quickly grow a large number of homunculi and have them end their lives at the right moment. You will act as a link. I will need a lot of your blood. Not all of it, you will survive. For that brief moment, the curse should temporarily weaken enough for us to break it with standard methods."

For a fraction of a second, Malfoy's thoughts filled with confusion and… disgust? Apparently, there was some Dark Magic he couldn't stomach. Or perhaps he feared the person who would kill thousands of almost-people based on a vague hope for success. I felt his distinct desire to stay far away from Elena.

"You will receive the full payment upon producing results, not before. I will procure you a Time-Turner. You may read some of our books in my presence. If there are any disputes, the Dark Lord will be our judge."

"I agree. The material for homunculi and embryos is on you. Leave it with the Lestranges, I will pick it up later."

I had to run, only two minutes left…

I-15 was sorting out my studies, thinking over the everything I learned through Rabastan and best ways to use it.

We needed a new care for magical creatures tutor. Only this time conduct the classes beyond the view of Nessie, lest this one scamper away as quickly as the last.

I had questions about the recent battle our Light Magic teacher could not answer. We had to find another, but who? And then there was the spell Albus used against me at the very end: name-based disembodiment. Was it possible to disembody anyone knowing their name? Or only with the Elder Wand?

We were soon going to receive a specialist in some rare African branch of magic. He graduated from Uagadou and was apparently on the run as an international fugitive for ritual murders. Hopefully, he would be competent and willing to become a Death Eater.

I was once again trying my hand at Light Magic. The arrow lost its structure and fell apart in a firework of sparks every time. I was perfectly repeating after the teacher, even after Rabastan! Overcharging it didn't work, undercharging didn't work, the exact same amount of energy they used didn't work. Nothing worked! Why? What was I missing?

I-16 was working on Horntail eggs. Or rather, preparing to work. Creating a chimera was no easy task, especially if it must survive without human care and successfully reproduce. But I wanted to create something aggressive, sterile, short-lived and powerful. There won't be much left of the original dragon. When Albus reaches the inferi cave, he will find a surprise… And not just one…

I-17 was speaking to an invited goblin craftsman.

"I would like to order copies of Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Gryffindor's Sword and an antique ring," I put my offer on the table. "They must be indistinguishable from the originals."

I needed the Gryffindor sword to complete my image of an eccentric collector. The rest were going to become counterfeit horcruxes for Albus.

"I don't deal in fakes, Sir," the goblin replied.

"I have no intention of taking them to an auction. They do not need to have the originals' magical properties, only fool any wizard into thinking the craftsmanship is authentic. I will pay in full and agree to follow the goblin property law in regard to these objects. They will be returned to the rightful owner in a couple of years."

"An unexpected decision for a wizard."

What difference did it make if Albus was going to break them anyway? The goblins can go demand restitution from him! Still, I needed to thoroughly read the terms together with the Lestranges. I would never sign a goblin contract alone.

I-18 was brewing a poison to kill Dumbledore. The only problem was finding a way to check whether phoenix tears counteracted it… Probably not.

In between stirring, adding ingredients and pouring in specific types of energy, I was also brewing a much simpler potion. Nessie and Nagini donated some ingredients… I wish I could delegate it to someone else, but Nagini had to remain a secret, and Rodolphus was no potioneer.

I-19 approached the Mirror of Erised and bared my mind. Snape's method was… unique. But I was not Lily Potter. I did not need anyone to hold my hand, an example or an explanation more than sufficed. So far, my successes have been modest: I learned to change small details. It didn't matter. I would soon be able to plant disinformation no worse than Snape.

A day with the Time-Turner wore me out: nineteen copies two to three hours each added up to over two days of biological time. Having taken more pepperup, I started on the most important task: preparing my ex-horcruxes for testing. If all goes well, I will receive some much needed answers.

The ring remained a mystery. Where was my army of inferi? Obedient Founders sharing all their secrets?

The diary flawlessly calculated simple spell formulas. I was using its help to modify the Dark Mark into a slave brand. No, not for my servants. I had no need of brainwashed humans incapable of creativity when it could be achieved with corpses just as easily. But I was not going to simply let Aberforth go. This way, he would make his brother's life a little more difficult. Who could have thought: Aberfoth Dumbledore, a Death Eater!

The water in Hufflepuff Cup turned into some strange, undiagnosable potion. I'll test it on prisoners later, doubtful it would heal them.

The horcruxes got covered in identification runes and went back to the safe to await the ritual. I was apprehensive about tampering with them: what if several Voldemorts came back to life? But I worked very carefully and have not noticed any foreign influences on myself. I would know everything soon…

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door to the Lestranges' basement where I was working. After putting away my treasures and cleaning up the traces, I opened the door to Rabastan.

"My Lord, Snape is waiting on you. He said it is urgent."

Strange. I just spoke to him, it may very well be something urgent.

"Take me to him," I said.

Snape was waiting in the study. Rabastan bowed and left. I honestly did not care for protocols, but there was no benefit in playing democracy. Getting this far without anyone exposing me was miracle enough in itself.

"My Lord, it's a success! I captured a member of the Order!" Snape reported with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

"How did you accomplish that? And where are they?"

"Mundungus Fletcher deserted the Order. Dumbledore told everyone to keep their eyes open for him. As the only halfblood in the Inner Circle, I occasionally do dirty work: deal with petty criminals. As the only Death Eater in the Order, I am ostracized and occasionally do dirty work: once again deal with petty criminals. I ran into Fletcher in a third-rate pub. I was under polyjuice at the time. A hit in the back in an empty alley- and he became my prisoner. Because I don't have the authorization to bring anyone here, I turned him in for standard prisoner processing."

"Rodolphus will go with you and bring him here. Your loyalty will be rewarded," I said. I would never go anywhere at Snape's invitation without knowing his thoughts. What if it was a trap?

They returned three minutes later, and I dismissed Snape. How to reward him? Add a new floor to his house? Easily. Except, Albus would notice. Money? A good idea. Only he could not spend it without arousing suspicion…

Soon I was standing over the unconscious prisoner chained to a table. All his charms had been dispelled and his belongings confiscated. He looked the part of a petty thief with below average magical talent. Dirty, reeking of alcohol and cheap tobacco. Well, let's see…

"Legilimens," I said.

No surprises here: a targeted occlumency block by Albus. Breaking it would be difficult and take mindbogglingly long. I only pulled out useless nonsense along the lines of his name and what he ate for breakfast. Albus surely provided for Veritaserum as well… Let's try voluntary cooperation first.

"Ennervate," I pronounced out loud. I was not yet fully back to normal and did not want to prolong this any more than necessary. Little crumbs added up.

The man's eyes snapped open.

"Where am I? Who's here? I know Hugh Noss himself! A good part of Knockturn reports to him! And I'm one of Dumbledore's men! Let me go, or you'll regret it!"

Was he an idiot or a hero? It was probably because the cell was pitch black and he, unlike me, had no night vision charm.

All right, turn up the drama and madness. We can always try the Cruciatus later. I laughed with Voldemort's insane cackle and turned on the lights. The prisoner squinted.

"Lord Voldemort welcomes you. How long will you last under the Cruciatus before losing your mind?"

"Aaah… No! I'll tell you everything, just don't kill me! And no Cruciatus!"

Sometimes my reputation helped- I didn't even get to tell him about dementors and their kiss… He was unlikely to share anything useful, for example the location of the Order's headquarters, but I would learn at least something even if it kills him.

"I am eager to hear your story. It must be truthful and very detailed, or I will call in Greyback."

I got bombarded by a torrent of words. They contained very little worthwhile information, but Fletcher did not lie and tried his best. How fortunate that not everyone was like Slughorn…

Augustus Rookwood

Today, Rookwood received a special assignment from the Dark Lord. After the end of his shift at the Department of Mysteries, he put on a heap of artifacts and went to work on his task.

The Dark Lord ordered him to search for ancient magical artifacts and manuscripts. Many wizards searched for antiques, the Unspeakables had an entire division dedicated to just that. Finding something valuable was a long shot, especially with the efforts of a single person who was frankly no archaeologist.

But the Dark Lord's wisdom knew no bounds. There was no need to dig, only look around large muggle museums, especially their undeciphered manuscripts and unidentified objects. After all, muggles numbered in the billions! Magical items were often charmed to be protected from magical searches, so he would surely find something. Then move on to private collections… And the muggles would be none the wiser with permanently transfigured copies. Or he could simply buy some at an auction!

Frederick Hollingswood

Frederick Hollingswood was a humble book merchant. Lately, he's been having problems: negative profit margins! No one was buying his most recent large volume order of books: The Invisible Book of Invisibilty, The Singing Book of Songs, The Laughing Book of Laughter and several more. He was about to haul the entire series to the farthest storage corner when he received an owl with an offer to buy them all.

Now, he was speaking to the client. The middle-aged man paid the full price in gold and was moving the books into a space-expanded bag.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Smith," he said with relief.

"Likewise, Mr. Hollingswood," the client cordially answered.

Mr. Hollingswood never noticed Smith covertly pulling out the the address of the books' author and publisher from his mind. Soon, the Dark Lord will have a new diary awaiting a meeting with Albus Dumbledore.