Chapter 90: The Death of Tom Riddle.

[P]-[W]-[M]

Ministry of Magic

Jonathan Grey

[P]-[W]-[M]

Yep. Riddle was sentenced to the rest of his life in prison. No surprise there. Amelia made sure there was no question asked about the specific locations of his Horcruxes, wanting to have him questioned in private for that, in order to make sure his allies didn't move them.

She knew he wouldn't survive the night, so there was no worry.

The rest of the attackers, Bellatrix included, were also interrogated and sentenced. But thankfully, their trials were much quicker. The ones of ‘high’ birth were able to weasel their way out of major punishment through some ‘difficult to find unless you went really looking’ type laws their ancestors had put in place. Laws I already planned to have Grindelwald do away with as part of his mandate. The means by which he did so mattered little, as long as no innocents were harmed and he kept punishment proportional to misdeeds.

The ones that weren't of ‘high’ birth weren't so lucky. At least the ones that were forced, that is, which were only a handful.

Fudge ended up leaving in a huff, even though his dealings with Riddle were done through Umbridge. He knew she would be questioned and his name would come up, so he was either going to chastise her for ‘misunderstanding his words’, or he was going to get rid of her for incompetence. Possibly in a permanent fashion.

Either way, the whole thing was going to look rather good for Amelia. She would now go down in history as the Chief Auror who helped the Flamels, Dumbledore and I in the capture of a well-known Dark Lord.

I watched in silence as Voldemort and his allies were marched away in shackles, with their once-feared masked faces stripped down to nothing more than battered, defeated men and women. With Nagini’s reinforced cage in hand, I said my good-byes to Sirius and Lord Greengrass and carried Nagini’s coiled, golden-eyed form toward the staging conference area along with the Flamels.

Ahead, reporters clustered in anticipation with dicta-quills poised and cameras clicking at Amelia’s approach. When she ascended the podium and adjusted her robes, she took a deep breath as she looked around at the old-fashioned cameras in front of her before her voice rang out. “Tonight, the Ministry and its Aurors successfully stopped a breakout attempt at Azkaban. I regret to confirm that some of our Aurors sustained minor injuries, and the Dementors that once guarded the prison were destroyed in the battle.”

The reporters stirred at that as their parchments shuffled, with quills constantly scratching. Then one man in a pinstriped suit shot up his hand. “Chief Auror Bones, who led this attack? Who were the perpetrators?”

Amelia’s jaw set. “It was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and his followers.” Seeing the confusion on the faces in the crowd, she elaborated. “Tom Riddle is the given name, the true name, of the man you know as Lord Voldemort.”

The reaction was an instant irruption of chaos, with voices shouting over one another, flashes from cameras exploding like fireworks.

“But he’s dead, how can–?”

“Voldemort’s real name–?”

“Is he truly in Ministry custody–?”

“What of the Dark Mark–?”

The noise swelled with questions being fired from every direction, but the moment I heard a question mentioning my name, I didn’t stay to hear the answers. With a brief glance at Amelia holding her ground against the storm, I turned and started walking to the Floo. Together with Nicolas and Perenell, we stepped into the green flames and vanished.

We emerged moments later into the warm, quiet halls of Littletree Castle. I set the reinforced cage down gently, before hissing to the snake coiled inside with [Parseltongue]. “Nagini. I will remove the shard first before starting on the healing.”

Inside the cage, the serpent’s golden eyes gleamed with understanding as she gave a slow, deliberate coil, bowing her head in patient assent. She had been rather cooperative since her capture, having already read about my healing abilities in newspapers. She wanted a Wizard powerful enough to heal her of her Meladictus. And not only could she only communicate with a Parceltongue, but the only [Parceltongue] she knew that may have been strong enough to help her was Riddle.

Until she heard me speak, that is. If I had made a big deal out of my speaking [Parceltongue] in Hogwarts enough to make several headlines, then she may have started making her way to me much earlier.

Vanishing the cage into the [Hoard], I pressed a hand over her scaled head as the Famels stood close by. Feeling the oily, malignant soul fragment latching onto her inside her, like the parasite it was, my magic surged, pulling and burning the writhing shadow while it screamed as it was dragged out. Its form twisted furiously before shattering into metaphysical ash beneath the weight of my will.

[Destroyed another one of Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes: +40,000 SP]

I didn’t stop there. My magic shifted to that of healing, healing her Maledictus in the process. Slowly, her scales started receding into pale skin, and she started getting larger. A moment later, Nagini lay collapsed on the floor with shallow breathing. She lifted trembling hands to her face and tears welled in her dark eyes. For the first time in decades, she felt her heartbeat not as a beast of cursed flesh, but as a woman with her curse finally gone.

Her soft, broken whisper carried through the room as she uttered her first non-sepentine words in years. “I’m… me again.”

Her voice was hoarse after many years without use and her features were similar to the Fantastic beasts, especially with my magic going as far as healing her to the point she was now in her late thirties. And I had no doubt Grindelwald would be surprised to see her when he arrives after confirming Voldemort's death.

[Cure a magical terminal illness: +600 SP]

The young woman kneeling where the serpent had been, with her dark hair spilling over her trembling shoulders, looked on in disbelief. “...It’s gone,” she whispered with relief as she swirled the magic within her body to see if the Malidictus would flare up before her grateful gaze landed on me. “You… you freed me.”

I just gave her a small, lopsided smirk. “Everyone deserves the chance to be whole. Even those caught in someone else’s fight.” I gestured toward the carved oak door leading to the castle’s dining hall, already turning to walk with the Flamels in butler and secretary disguise flanking the girl, ready to help her walk. “Come. Let’s get you some food while we talk.”

Nagini blinked before gathering herself and trying to follow. Nicolas had to apply subtle Telekinetic magic to aid her awkward walk as she got used to doing so, receiving a thankful nod from the young lady.

[Kill Tom Marvolow Riddle: +100,000 SP]

I couldn’t help the smirk that made its way to my face. It took a few seconds for me to get the points, but he didn’t seem to die instantly in the movies either, so it was expected.

[P]-[W]-[M]

Ministry of Magic - Holding Cells

[P]-[W]-[M]

The heavy iron door slammed shut, and the wards formed into place as the Aurors locked the cell with a dozen layers of enchantments. Voldemort crumpled into the corner of his Ministry cell, not even noticing the silver chains biting into his flesh. For the first time since boyhood, since he was forced to live through the bombing of London during World War 2, courtesy of Dumbledore turning down his request to stay in Hogwarts, he did not rage. He did not sneer. He only curled into himself, hollow-eyed, and let the fear flow through him, doing its work.

Then it hit.

Agony ripped through him as the tether inside Nagini snapped. His hand shook violently, with black cracks spiderwebbing across his pale skin, glowing like fault lines of death itself. His breath hitched as he let out a rattling gasp while the cracks spread. His face was withering while his form began to crumble to dust. He knew then that he was already dead and was only granted a few moments for his last thoughts.

“I… I just… didn’t want… to die…” The words were barely a desperate whisper of some kind of broken dream, before his body gave way. And not a moment later, ash fell where once had stood the most feared Dark Lord in Britain.

Outside the cell, two Aurors reeled back in shock. “Merlin’s beard! What–?”

“Don’t just bloody stand there! Check the Wards! Now!”

They scoured the room with detection spells, searching for hexes, curses, or intruders, but found nothing. And yet Voldemort was dead, gone to dust before their very eyes. With pale faces and shaking heads, one rushed to report what they had witnessed and the other stayed to make sure the wards were still in place in case it was just a ruse to help him escape.

Unseen, the faintest shimmer moved down the corridor, past the rattled Aurors and past the secured wards. Grindelwald, under the Invisibility Cloak he was allowed to borrow for the mission, walked with the calm of a man leaving a lecture hall. By the time the alarms began ringing, he was already sliding into a Ministry Floo just before they were all shut down, letting the green fire carry him to Littletree Castle.

Inside the warm dining hall, he found his Lord seated at the head of the table with the disguised Nicolas and Perenelle beside him, and a face he had not seen in decades quietly eating and enjoying her food sitting next to him.

Nagini was now whole, human, and radiant with the life he’d thought she had long lost. Grindelwald dropped the veil as casually as if he’d taken off a hat, wondering what he had missed. “Well, well. A picture from the past. Nagini, you look as though not a day has passed since the forties. Much healthier now, too.”

Nagini froze mid-bite as her eyes widened, stunned. The fork slipped from her fingers with a faint clink as she spoke barely above a whisper. “Grindelwald…” Her gaze flicked between him and the Dragon Lord, which seemed to cause her confusion and wariness to grow. “I… I didn’t know you two were working together.”

Grindelwald puffed out his chest, flashing a genuine chipper smile, knowing that with the death of Voldemort, Lord Grey could now get started with his progeny problem. “Oh, not working together, my dear. I am working for Lord Grey now. I’ll have you know I am now a loyal subordinate, through and through.” He even went as far as gesturing to the dragon sigil on his lapel before his attention shifted to the boy in question, dropping his tone into something far more serious. “I can confirm that Riddle died in his cell. He seemed to turn to literal dust.”

He then folded the Invisibility Cloak and carefully set it on the table, allowing Lord Grey to pick it up without ceremony, slipping it into his magic storage space as though stowing an everyday handkerchief. 

“I love it when my plans come together,” Lord Grey said nonchalantly with a casual shrug. It was no surprise to Grindelwald to see the expression of a person who already knew the news. He was talking to a much better Seer than himself, after all.

Nagini blinked, still in her stupor from hearing that Grindelwald worked for Lord Grey. Her brow furrowed as her confusion deepened.

Grindelwald leaned toward her with the same charm and twinkle in his eyes that he once used to sway nations. “Don’t look so bewildered, Nagini.” He smiled. “Lord Grey is an accomplished Seer. He foresaw Riddle’s rise long before the rest of us, and decided it needed a quicker ending.”

Nagini shook her head slowly, which caused her dark hair to tumble around her face. “I know that, it’s what we were just discussing before you arrived…” Her voice trailed into a frown. “I’m just… confused. How did you end up working for him?”

Grindelwald’s smile widened in a boyish fashion despite his age. “Simple. I broke out of prison to serve the man destined to make the magical world better. Why linger in chains when history waits, my dear?”

Her lips parted as though to argue, but instead she simply nodded, still caught in a fog of disbelief.

Lord Grey, unfazed by the mention of his abilities, reached for his teacup and took a slow sip before speaking to the Flamels. “You guys can start coordinating with the Dwarves on building the University of Magic. I’m sure many of the Muggleborn Witches and Wizards will be more than happy to become Professors instead of settling for tutoring heirs and heiresses. I’ll be heading into my pocket dimension to prepare it for new inhabitants."

“Dimension?” Nagini muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. No one in the room answered.

“I’ll be gone for a month or so, but I’ll definitely be back when the school is built.” Lord Grey continued.  “Nagini, you’ll work with Grindelwald for now. But if you would like a transfer, refer to either the Farages.” He gestured to the Flamels, before gesturing to his vampire caretaker standing at the door. “Or Agnes.” 

Grindelwald pressed a hand to his chest, bowing his head with exaggerated gravitas. “We’ll do great work together, my lord.”

“I know you will,” Lord Grey nodded. “Before I leave, I’ll need some more DNA samples. Trial and error and all that. Eat first, then we’ll head into the lab to discuss.”

Not a moment later, a seat at the table pulled itself out, courtesy of the invisible House Elves, and steaming plates of food shimmered into existence atop it. Grindelwald just chuckled as he slid into the chair with ease. His thoughts went to the future conversation they were going to have in the lab. It was always irritating when he couldn’t see the boy Lord with his Seer abilities, but it didn’t hurt to try… and fail, apparently.

“I look forward to it,” He said, raising a glass as he started digging in. Grey said nothing, merely raised his cup in acknowledgement as he lifted his flat muggle device and started looking through it, leaving Grindlewald and Nagini to catch up as they ate.

With the lull in conversation, the Flamels just shrugged as they got their own Muggle devices out and did the same to their new boss.

[P]-[W]-[M]

British Ministry of Magic - Department of Mysteries 

Hall of Prophecies

[P]-[W]-[M]

As per usual, the Hall of Prophecy was silent aside from the faint, eerie hum of the orbs stacked in their endless rows. In the far corner, one sphere began to tremble as hairline cracks spidered across its surface. The faint glow inside pulsed once before it shattered with a soft pop.

An Unspeakable stood before it, motionless, with the shadow of his hood hiding his features and wearing a small, distinct, enchanted hourglass attached to a necklace. The broken prophecy whispered its last, the echoing words through the air before its light faded completely.

“...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Then silence. Nothing but shards glittering faintly on the shelf around the label of the stand, which read, “S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D - Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.”

The Unspeakable took their time collecting the fragments carefully, placing them into a small velvet pouch. Without a word, they turned and silently walked out of the hall, using his wand to guide his conjured ball of light to light his exit route. Moments later, he entered a dark chamber deep within the Department of Mysteries. Around a rune-covered and enchanted stone table sat several more figures, all hooded with their faces obscured, with the only source of light being a single enchanted lantern.

The Unspeakable placed the pouch on the table as he spoke. “The prophecy has broken and no longer holds power. So, either Voldemort is truly dead… or the terms of the prophecy are now irrelevant due to changes in circumstance regarding the potential end of the Dark Lord.”

“I confirmed it myself.” A sharp, dismissive snort came from one of the others. “Used the Time-Turner just like you did for the prophecy and watched him turn to dust. Voldemort is finished… permanently.”

A murmur rippled around the table as one voice muttered with grim satisfaction. “About bloody time.”

For a moment, there was silence. The Unpeakable, who placed the prophecy on the table, leaned back slightly in his chair. “I’ll go to the Auror Office, then the Minister, and let them know. They’ve been running around like headless chickens looking for anyone who could have helped him escape.” He paused as the faintest chuckle escaped him. “Any one of you brave or foolish enough to try your luck with a Time Dragon again. See how Lord Grey managed it.”

The chamber chilled as, even beneath their hoods, shoulders stiffened. A faint shiver seemed to pass through the group at the thought, as memories of what meddling with such a beast was like and the sheer power they felt from the monstrosity.

“No,” one said firmly. “Best left alone.”

“Agreed. We know enough.”

“Bollocks to that.”

“Yeah, fuck that.”

“I have yet to lose my sanity, so I will have to pass.”

One by one, the Unspeakables made their way to their feet and they slipped away, practically running from the room and leaving the stone table bare.

Taking the pouch off the table, the chuckling Unspeakable lingered as his laughter echoed around the empty room before he stepped through the door, vanishing into the labyrinth of the Ministry to do Merlin know with the pouch’s contents.

[P]-[W]-[M]

“Dinner, Nagini.”

— Tom Marvolo Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort.

[P]-[W]-[M]

Hello There

Ninety chapters in, and Voldemort is finally dead. Yes, I know I took my damn time, but it was fun to write.

Next order of business, make sure Witches and Wizards survive the Goblin rebellion, which will be brewing, even though I did a horrible job of foreshadowing hints. That and Muggles finding out about magic. Then to fix the Witcher and Star Wars verses.

[P]-[W]-[M]

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

[P]-[W]-[M]

Thank you for reading.

As always, stay awesome.

Until next time, Light's out.