Dawn was about to break over the English countryside, bringing with it the promise of a day that would change everything.
A streak of sickly, unnatural green light emerged from the very edge of the distant horizon, slowly devouring the still-dark canopy of sky above like a disease spreading across healthy flesh.
Vicious winds howled over Malfoy Manor, battering the ancient estate with persistent force. Yet even these powerful gusts, strong enough to bend the naked trees in the dying gardens, could not sweep away the thin grey mist that permeated the air around the property.
On the rooftop terrace of the mansion, exposed to the full force of the wind and the eerie pre-dawn light, Voldemort stood motionless. His eyes were narrowed to crimson slits as he gazed toward the breaking dawn with an expression of cold anticipation.
His baggy black robes, which hung loosely on his skinny body, rustled sharply in the violent wind, snapping and curling around him like the wings of some enormous carrion bird.
"It is time—"
The roaring wind that tore across the terrace could not suppress or carry away Voldemort's murmuring whisper.
He turned around to look behind him. Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa stood at the forefront, their faces pale and strained in the dim light. Behind them, Nott Senior, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Avery, Greengrass—all of his most loyal Death Eaters. They stood in a loose semicircle.
"Fourteen years ago," Voldemort began, "we suffered a defeat. That defeat, that single night of unexpected failure, forced me—forced all of you, my loyal friends who have stood beside me through everything to pay a terrible, unacceptable price."
A small, nervous stir passed through the gathered Death Eaters. They lowered their heads in union, not daring to meet the Dark Lord's crimson gaze.
"Our great cause suffered a devastating setback," Voldemort continued. His voice remained soft, almost gentle, as though he were mourning something precious that had been lost.
"And those despicable, hypocritical, and utterly incompetent wizards who call themselves our government used our temporary failure to take the stage, to claim power they never earned. They have spent fourteen years wantonly mocking our glorious dreams, celebrating what they think was their victory."
Voldemort paused, letting apparent resentment build in his followers' hearts.
"But those pathetic cowards, those weak-willed fools who think they've won, will eventually recognize the truth they've tried so hard to deny. They will learn that Lord Voldemort cannot be defeated by luck or chance, that he will ultimately lead those who dare to resist their corruption, those unyielding warriors who refuse to bow to mediocrity, to win back the glory and power that rightfully belongs to the pure-bloods. Now—"
Voldemort's voice suddenly rose. His words overwhelmed even the sound of the howling wind. The temperature seemed to drop swiftly, and the atmosphere was filled with a sharp, chilling murderousness that made several of the Death Eaters flinch.
"Go, my loyal friends! Go now and strike the first blow! It is time to let the wizarding world feel fear once again, to remind them why they used to whisper my name in terror! I will wait here for you to bring me the good news of your success!"
The Death Eaters said nothing in response, knowing that no words were expected or desired. After Lucius, who was leading this mission, bowed deeply to Voldemort with his pale hair falling forward, his figure vanished into the air.
"Now—" Voldemort smiled at the remaining Death Eaters. "You need to wait a moment longer. Your time will come soon enough."
Crack!
With a sharp sound, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the reception hall of the Ministry of Magic.
The enormous, magnificent hall was empty except for a wizard with a deathly pale complexion waiting by the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the center of the entrance hall.
Only after Lucius recognized the man's face did his agitated heart calm slightly.
He strode forward, and it was only when he drew near that he realized the contact was not alone.
At the boundary between the elevator area and the reception hall, a young wizard was sleeping soundly at a table against the wall.
Lucius's grey eyes flashed with vigilance. He drew his wand from the top of his walking stick, gripped it in his palm, and struck the sleeping wizard with a red beam of light. Only then did his tense breathing become more relaxed.
He turned his gaze back to the wizard who had been patiently waiting for him, carefully examining this Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. Broderick Bode stood motionless.
He was the crucial 'insider' that Nott and the others had selected after weeks of widespread investigation and careful planning.
The reason Bode had been specifically chosen from among all the Ministry's employees was that, as an Unspeakable from a family of hereditary Unspeakables, he possessed something vitally important.
Something the Dark Lord had learned about quite by accident from a Hogwarts ghost during his own student days.
To determine precisely who held this particular item in the present day, Nott and the others had expended considerable effort over many months.
Only after confirming that the light in Bode's eyes remained appropriately dull and fixed, showing no sign of awareness or resistance, did Lucius cautiously inserted his wand back into the concealed compartment in his stick.
"No one else is on guard, correct?" Lucius asked in a low voice. "We're alone down here?"
"I switched shifts with the person who was supposed to be on duty tonight," Bode replied in an utterly emotionless tone.
"I volunteered to take his place, claiming personal reasons. There's only me down below in the Department now, but you should know that some people who work there have a habit of arriving very early—some as early as six in the morning to get a head start on their research. We only have an hour left at most before someone might appear."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Lucius said sharply. "Every moment we delay is a moment wasted. The Dark Lord is awaiting our good news."
The two men walked quickly into the elevator area. Lucius pressed the call button with one gloved finger, and soon an elevator arrived with a rattling, clattering sound that seemed thunderous in the silent hall.
Lucius followed Bode into the carriage, his hand was resting on his walking stick in a way that would allow him to draw his wand in an instant if needed.
After Bode pressed the ninth button on the control panel, the golden grille door slammed shut with a reverberating clang, and instead of ascending toward the upper floors where most Ministry business was conducted, the carriage began to descend into the depths beneath London.
The rattling of the heavy chains above the carriage as they slowed down made cold sweat break out at Lucius's temples, trickling down the sides of his face despite the cool air.
He had thought this terrible noise would surely alert the building's security personnel, that Aurors would be waiting when the doors opened, wands raised and ready. But fortunately, nothing happened. The carriage descended smoothly, quickly stopping at its destination deep underground.
A cold woman's voice announced through the carriage: "Department of Mysteries."
The grille door slid open gently, almost silently in contrast to its violent closing. Lucius stepped out of the carriage with forced confidence and stood in the corridor outside.
The corridor's walls on all sides were rough stone, unmarked and ancient-looking, as though this place had existed long before the Ministry above it.
Apart from torches hanging in iron brackets on the walls on both sides, casting flickering orange light that did little to dispel the oppressive darkness, there were no decorative elements at all.
As he stared at the corridor stretching before him into shadow, Lucius's left eye twitched uncontrollably several times, it was a nervous tic he couldn't suppress despite his efforts at maintaining composure.
This was not a place that brought him pleasant memories, far from it. The last time he had been here, he had been detained by Aurors.
But tonight's mission didn't require him to head toward the completely black door at the end of the corridor. Instead, Lucius's gaze turned to the right wall.
About thirty feet away, barely visible in the torchlight, there was a different doorway leading further underground, and that was where the Wizengamot courtrooms were located.
Recalling the enormous effort and expense he had expended to escape imprisonment back then and connecting that desperate scramble to what he was doing now, to the crimes he was about to commit that would make those previous charges look trivial, Lucius felt his face muscles tighten.
The footsteps of Bode and Lucius echoed piercingly loud in the hollow corridor. Each footfall seemed to announce their presence, yet no one came to investigate. They walked steadily toward the pitch-black door at the corridor's end.
Lucius moved to position himself to one side of the door's heavy iron hinge, pressing his back against the stone wall where he'd be hidden if the door opened out.
Meanwhile, Bode, his expression remaining completely blank and emotionless like a mask, pushed the door open with both hands and stepped into the mysterious room beyond first, disappearing into the darkness.
Lucius stood frozen, his wand half-drawn, his entire body tense and ready to flee or fight.
"Come in," Bode's flat voice finally came from beyond the door after what felt like an age of waiting.
Lucius pulled his cloak more tightly around himself with his free hand, and walked in cautiously, leaning on his cane, every sense alert for danger or deception.
The space beyond the door was revealed to be a large circular room, much larger than the corridor had looked like. Everything here was black, utterly, completely black. The floor was polished black marble that reflected like dark glass. The ceiling was lost in shadows above.
The surrounding black walls were embedded with many black doors, Lucius counted quickly, his mind was automatically cataloging potential exits, they were at least a dozen, possibly more. They were all identical in appearance, unmarked by any sign or number, and completely without handles or any visible means of opening.
Between the walls, scattered at irregular intervals, were branching candelabras of antique design. The flames burning in them were an eerie, cold blue rather than natural orange or yellow, and the flickering light they cast onto the gleaming marble floor made Lucius feel as though he were standing above dark, bottomless water.
The illusion was so strong that he had to resist the urge to test the floor's solidity with his cane.
"Ah, the Department of Mysteries," Lucius breathed softly. He spoke almost reverently despite his anxiety. "They say this place contains the ultimate secrets of magic and death, knowledge that would drive lesser minds to madness. I have never been here before."
Gazing at everything before him, Lucius felt something shift in his chest. He seemed able to feel a mysterious aura permeating the air like invisible smoke, and this intangible presence filled him with an uncomfortable mixture of awe and dread.
Click.
Lucius carefully closed the door behind them, and the moment the latch engaged, the circular room immediately fell into a deathly, absolute silence.
There was no sound of air movement at all, no breathing except their own. Even the burning candles were utterly soundless, their flames were dancing without the crackling one expected from fire.
But before Lucius could adapt to this terrifying stillness, before his mind could accept this unnatural quiet, a sudden rumbling sound came from behind the walls around him.
Then the candles began to move sideways along the walls, sliding smoothly as though on invisible tracks, and Lucius realized with rising horror that the entire circular wall had started to rotate around them.
Over the next several disorienting seconds, the wall spun with increasing speed. The blue flames blurred into continuous streaks of cold light in Lucius's frightened grey eyes, like neon tubes in the Muggle world, creating dizzying patterns that made his stomach lurch. He felt his sense of direction completely abandon him.
"What is happening?!" Lucius demanded, his voice emerged higher and more strained than he'd intended. His composure cracked as genuine fear crept into his tone.
The violent commotion ended as abruptly as it had begun, the wall grinding to a halt.
Beads of sweat covered Lucius's hair, making it stick to his forehead in disarray. His face had turned an unhealthy greenish color in the blue light, and he could feel his hands trembling. He drew his wand with a sharp motion and demanded answers from Bode with false bravado, trying to regain some sense of control.
"What was that? Some kind of trap?"
"A defensive mechanism," Bode explained in his continuing flat, unconcerned voice. "It prevents intruders from knowing which door they entered through, or which doors lead where."
"Oh," Lucius said, forcing his breathing to slow, trying to project a confidence he absolutely did not feel. "Then we should not be troubled by this particular defense, should we?"
"No," Bode replied tersely.
Even under the control of the Imperius Curse, the protective mechanisms here had not confused Bode. Without hesitation, he walked toward a specific black door on the left front.
Under Lucius's vigilant, suspicious gaze, Bode reached out and touched the black door with his index finger.
Suddenly, numerous small, chaotic points of light appeared on the pitch-black surface of the door, materializing like stars being born.
The points of light began to drift across the door's surface against the dark background. They looked like countless stars in the boundless universe moving along mysterious, unknowable trajectories, tracing paths that hurt to watch too closely.
Bode touched specific points of light on the door in a manner and sequence that Lucius could not understand despite watching intently, trying to memorize the pattern. The magic involved was clearly beyond his expertise.
Each selected point immediately accelerated its movement when touched, beginning to collide with other points in what became a rapidly expanding chain reaction.
The collisions multiplied exponentially—two points becoming four, four becoming eight, spreading across the door's surface like an avalanche of light. Finally, the bright radiance released by the countless originally faint points of light after their collisions flooded Lucius's curious but watering gaze, forcing him to look away.
When he cautiously removed the hand that had been shielding his eyes from the overwhelming brightness, blinking away the afterimages burned into his vision, Lucius discovered with astonishment that the black door that had been blocking their way had transformed completely.
It was now a transparent door radiating pure white light, glowing like captured moonlight or starlight made solid.
Through the transparent surface, he could see hints of what lay beyond, though the light was too bright to make out details.
"Inside is..." Lucius began to ask, his voice trailing off as he tried to peer through the radiance.
Bode nodded once. "You can summon them now. As I told Nott, once you enter inside, the Portkeys you made will no longer work."
Seeing no reason to doubt him, Lucius nodded slowly and gradually rolled up his left sleeve with his free hand. Then his finger pressed firmly against the skull on his forearm.
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