The Burning Pen

Through the Looking Glass
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 44

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 44 ~ On the Moors

”I expect no treachery on your part, Professor McGonagall,” a Poly-juiced Voldemort hissed at the witch as they stood outside the gates of Hogwarts and he took her arm. “If there is, you can be assured you will not be returning to Hogwarts or any place else.”

Minerva’s blood ran cold at the look in the wizard’s eyes. He would kill her. She had no doubt of that. She hoped the Dark Lord was on the up and up. She’d hate to lose her life because of his treachery. If only . . .

”You haven’t answered me,” Voldemort growled.

”I understand completely, Headmaster,” Minerva said.

She found it strange that for the last few days, Tom had addressed her formally, never calling her by her first name as he usually did. But she said nothing about it. He also stayed in his office, seemingly unconcerned about the goings-on at the school. Normally, he’d be full of questions and maybe even laughter at the state of things for the teachers. None of them except professor Snape was doing any extra credit. Even her own Slytherins were frequenting him, much to her chagrin.

What made it worse, was that she heard them talking about him with nothing but praise, and even wishing that he were doing more than light extra credit. He wasn’t fucking any of them, and it seemed they wanted to be fucked. So, Severus Snape had gone from being an undesirable, to a desirable teacher.

And he was so quietly smug too. When the wizard came to meals, it was as if every students’ eyes were on him. He didn’t say a word, or openly gloat about the situation . . . oh, no.  He was "too superior" to act in such a manner. Snape just ordered and ate his food.

The staff members couldn’t stand it, and one or two confronted him, saying he shouldn’t be giving extra credit but standing with them and presenting a united front.

”You MUST be joking,” was Snape's only comment concerning the ludicrous idea.

And when Flitwick, who obviously hadn’t learned his lesson with Hermione, tried to hex Snape as he walked up the marble staircase with his back turned, he was hit by several spells from students of every house at once. He was nearly taken to Poppy by his attackers, but luckily, Filch saw the students carrying the unconscious little wizard up the shifting stairwell and rescued him.

Hermione was one of the students delivering him, and wore a wicked grin when Filch literally pulled him out of their arms.

”They’re getting nasty,” he told the other staff members, who paled at the students' viciousness.

And Tom was staying clear of all of it, obviously focusing all his attention on whatever insanity he was attempting to pursue with Bedaub Mules. And Minerva was right in the middle of it. Hopefully, history would forget her part in bringing the two together, and Professor Binns wouldn’t get wind of it. He published a great many history papers and was always looking for new damning material, the old snoop.

Minerva felt the burn of the summons, and disappeared, Voldemort in tow.

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They reappeared on a great expanse of field, where the grass was shin high and it was easily to see all around them for miles. The sky was overcast, dark angry-looking clouds intermixed with light gray mists that scudded along, driven by wind.

Lord Bedaubs Mules stood there, dressed in simple black robes, his wand in his hand and eyes narrowed as he stared at Minerva and his guest. Scaly, noseless, lipless, with a long beard tied with a small band and longer flowing white hair, his blue eyes were hard and suspicious as Minerva released him and walked a distance away.

The despot suspected this was trickery, and was prepared in case it was. And if it wasn’t . . . he was still prepared.

Voldemort walked toward the man who in his world was his arch-nemesis, but in this one, could be a staunch ally on the road to greatness, provided he were willing to share in the glory. He got within twenty feet of the wizard, before he held up his hand.

”That’s close enough, Tom,” Albus hissed.

”Don’t tell me you’re afraid. You have your wand drawn and you can see I am alone,” Voldemort said, unable to help taking a stab at the wizard’s caution.

The blue eyes hardened.

”I am hardly afraid, just distrustful. You aren’t the kind of man who inspires trust, Tom. Now, what is this nonsense that you’ve had a change of heart? You have always supported those . . . freaks . . . those blasphemous accidents of nature. Now you want me to believe you’ve turned your back on them? You, Tom? It’s ridiculous.”

Voldemort smiled at Dumbledore’s description of Muggle-Borns. He felt the same way about them.

”Yes, I wish you to believe it. It’s true after all. You saw the Pensieve of my oath,” Voldemort replied, his voice becoming higher.

”Oaths can be faked in Pensieves. It was only Minerva’s assurances under the Crucio hex that convinced me to see you. And what’s the matter with your voice?” Dumbledore asked, frowning at the wizard.

”Well, it’s been altered a bit,” Voldemort said, “as have I in order to keep my place at Hogwarts until I can present my true form by degrees.”

Dumbledore’s frown grew blacker.

”Altered? Degrees? Stop talking in riddles and tell me exactly what you mean,” he hissed, his hand tightening on his wand.

Suddenly, Tom’s face began to bubble as the Polyjuice potion began to wear off. Minerva brought her hand to her mouth in horror as he changed, becoming bald, scaly and absolutely horrible, but slightly recognizable as the man she knew, or thought she knew.

”I am the Tom Riddle of the alternate world, better known as Lord Voldemort. I lead the Purebloods in the war for power. I have come here to do the same, and in my position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, I believe we can help each other,” the wizard said.

Dumbledore studied the scaly abomination before him. So, he came here to lead the Purebloods did he? Who the fuck did he think he was? There was one leader of Purebloods in this world, and that was Lord Bedaub Mules. He wasn’t giving up his position for anyone.

Voldemort didn’t see the subtle flick of the wizard’s forefinger as he held it at his side.

”So you’ve come to lead, have you? Well, you can just return to your world, Lord of Nothing. I am in control here and don’t intend to share my power,” Dumbledore said as Voldemort’s face contorted.

”Don’t be a fool. Don’t you see we are in the position to take over?” he hissed at the wizard, his own wand hand twitching now.

”And once we have, then what? Who will be in charge? Who will be the head?”

”We can share rule,” Voldemort said, although he had no intentions on doing that. In the end, there could only be one Dark Lord. He had planned to use the wizard, then murder him at the first opportunity.

”Are you insane?” Dumbledore asked him.

This was the worst question one could ask Voldemort. He hated having his sanity questioned. Those who had the foolish notion to ask that, usually didn’t continue breathing very long. The wizard began to tremble.

”No, I’m not insane . . . don’t say that again,” Voldemort hissed, crouching slightly.

Minerva noticed a movement in the high grass behind Voldemort, and stared at it. Then she blanched. It was Dumbledore’s familiar, Nagina . . . and she was stealthily sliding up behind the wizard.

Minerva was between a moat and a hard place. If she said anything, she would be a traitor to Bedaub Mules, and that would mean her death. If she didn’t say anything, she’d be a traitor to Voldemort, which would also mean death. But she’d known Dumbledore much longer than she did Voldemort, so . . . didn’t say a word as the snake drew closer.

Bedaubs Mules kept the wizard talking.

”All right, Lord Volderot . . .”

”That’s Lord VoldeMORT,” the despot corrected.

”Whatever. Suppose I were willing to work with you. How do you propose we begin?”

”Well, first you would publicly announced that you want to call a truce . . . to cease all violence toward Muggle-Borns and their supporters in return for amnesty for your followers.  You would state you would only work with the Head of Hogwarts, myself, and together, you and I will draft the truce, including a few 'perks' for Purebloods . . . ”

Voldemort began to share his ideas, completely caught up in his vision as Nagina stopped behind him and raised third of her eighteen foot long body off the ground, swaying slightly, her cold eyes resting on the back of the bald wizard’s head.

Bedaub Mules gave no indication of the snake’s presence, and Minerva was behind Voldemort, so he couldn’t see her look of terror.

Suddenly, Nagina darted forward as Voldemort gesticulated, turning his head slightly and exposing his throat. The wizard screamed as she locked on to his throat, sinking her fangs deep into his jugular and coiling around his body.

”Yes, Nagina! Kill him!” Bedaub Mules cried in delight as Voldemort whirled and staggered, trying to pull the snake away. He managed to twist his wand at her.

” Sectumsempra!’ he rasped with all the intent he contained, managing to slice the snake’s head from its body.

”NOOOOO!” Bedaubs Mules cried, running forward as his familiar and only Horcrux died in front of his eyes, the long body dropping and writhing, the head still attached to Voldemort’s neck. Blood was pouring from the wound, and Voldemort’s red eyes turned to the approaching wizard, who was snarling at him and raising his wand to strike him dead.

Summoning his remaining strength, Voldemort pointed his wand at the wizard.

”AVADA KEDAVRA!” he moaned as he staggered, weak from blood loss . . . and dying.

Minerva watched as the Dark Lord was bathed in the dread green light, his hair and robes whipping around him as the spell enveloped him, then stopped.

Lord Bedaub Mules dropped to the ground, dead as dead could be.

Voldemort dropped his wand, turned and staggered toward Minerva, almost reaching her, his hand clasped to his neck. He had torn Nagina’s severed head away and blood was pouring over his fingers and soaking his robes as if a dam had burst.

He fell to his knees and looked up at the witch, one hand reaching for her beseechingly.

”Help me,” Voldemort gasped weakly, her form blurring before his eyes as he sought the mercy he had never given.

Minerva looked over at the dead Bedaub Mules, and then down at Voldemort.

She gave him a nasty little grin.

”I . . . I don’t think I will,” she said, softly, but her black eyes were cold. “I’ve been waiting for that Headmaster position forever, and I have to say . . . I do have senority. You’d only get in the way of that. So, goodbye, Tom Riddle, Voldemold or whoever you are. It’s been . . . interesting.”

And with that, Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Disapparated, leaving the wizard to his fate.

She had some redecorating to do.

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A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but I felt it should stand alone. My, my. What a nice, clean little ending to the two despots. If you noticed, I did a bit of turnabout in this chapter, giving Voldemort the anti-climatic death issued to our beloved Potions master in DH. The bastard. How does it feel, Voldie? Huh? Killed by a snake, an alternate version of your own familiar. Man, that was cleansing. Lol. I’m still pissed about that. Anyway, thanks for reading. ***


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