Harry Potter: Another Chance

Disclaimer:

Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the original characters I create.

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

-Author Notes-

Chapter 401: A Midnight Betrayal

Three days before the Second Task, Hogwarts Castle.

It was a quiet night. The corridors, bathed in shadow, carried the stillness of midnight.

But that stillness was broken by two sets of hurried footsteps echoing against the stone floor tiles.

Severus Snape moved swiftly, his sharp eyes darting around as he led the way. His paranoia was palpable. This mission demanded absolute secrecy, and no one could witness it.

Behind him, Professor Rookwood followed at an unhurried pace. But his demeanor was strikingly different from usual. The typically vacant expression was replaced by a cruel grin that stretched unnervingly across his face, his unnaturally red eyes gave away who was the one in charge of this body.

"This way... almost there," Snape whispered.

Rookwood chuckled, his voice carrying a mocking edge. "You think I don't remember where the office is?"

Snape ignored him, keeping his focus on their surroundings. The less they spoke, the better.

When they reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Snape sighed in relief. The small stone wedge he'd placed earlier to keep the passage open was still in place.

With a firm push, the statue moved aside, revealing the spiraling staircase.

"I'll go first," Snape muttered, glancing back.

Rookwood...or rather, Voldemort gave him a nod. The Dark Lord had entrusted much to Snape, and so far, the gamble appeared to be paying off.

If the curse placed on Dumbledore had worked as intended, tonight's mission would be disturbingly simple.

Together, the two men ascended the staircase and stepped inside the Headmaster's office.

Voldemort, inhabiting the flesh puppet of Rookwood, already had his wand in hand. While he appeared composed, he understood the limitations of this form. The flesh puppet's body lacked magical potency, making him vulnerable in any serious duel.

Still, if Severus had done his job, there wouldn't be much of a fight.

'And if he hasn't…' Voldemort's thoughts darkened momentarily as he imagined the excruciating punishments he would inflict on the potions master for treachery.

"My Lord," Snape whispered, breaking the silence.

Voldemort's attention shifted to the slumped figure at the desk.

Albus Dumbledore was fast asleep, his upper body sprawled over scattered papers. The sight sent Voldemort a rush of exhilaration.

The room was as it should be. The enchanted paintings were obscured with an obstruction jinx...no doubt Snape's handiwork, and Dumbledore's wand lay carelessly on the desk. Voldemort snatched it with a quick, fluid motion.

'Why take unnecessary risks?' he mused to himself.

But something was amiss. His eyes fell on the perch in the corner of the room.

"Where is the phoenix?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Snape glanced at the empty perch, feigning surprise. "I don't know, my Lord. It wasn't here the last time I checked."

Voldemort didn't appear fully convinced but chose not to dwell on it.

"It often disappears on its own," Snape added. "It won't return unless called. We should proceed quickly."

Voldemort nodded, reluctantly agreeing. He turned his wand toward the slumbering figure.

"Mmm…" Voldemort frowned, his expression unreadable.

"Is something wrong?" Snape's voice wavered, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

'I can't detect any magic on him,' Voldemort thought. It was unsettling. Even with the curse draining Dumbledore's strength, the Dark Lord had expected some trace of resistance. But there was nothing. The man before him was as defenseless as a Muggle.

"It's nothing," Voldemort said after a pause. "Let's wake him, shall we?"

With a flick of his wand, an invisible force shoved Dumbledore from his desk, sending him crashing into the stone wall.

"Urgh…" Dumbledore groaned, his body crumpling to the floor.

"My Lord," Snape hissed, his irritation barely concealed. "We agreed to be quiet. This isn't subtle at all."

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this moment? Let me savor it."

Dumbledore stirred, struggling to his feet. He clutched at a nearby chair for support, his piercing blue eyes locking onto his intruders.

"Severus…" His voice was hoarse, tinged with disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?"

Voldemort's grin widened, his satisfaction plain.

"I wish I could draw this out further," Voldemort said mockingly. "But here's the short version: your loyal Severus has betrayed you."

Dumbledore's expression faltered. He staggered toward the large window behind his desk, leaning against it for support.

"Betrayed…" he repeated, his voice trembling. "How could you, Severus?"

"The curse that reduced you to this pitiful state?" Voldemort sneered.

"That was my gift. I stripped you of your magic, and now—" He raised his wand, the tip glowing menacingly. "I will take your life."

"Please, no…" Dumbledore clasped his hands together, his eyes wide with desperation. "Don't kill me!"

The plea gave Voldemort pause. His grin faded, replaced by a look of disgust.

"This is pathetic," he muttered. "You, once hailed as the next coming of Merlin… reduced to this?"

Without further hesitation, he uttered the words:

"Avada Kedavra."

The deadly green light struck Dumbledore squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling backward out of the open window.

For a moment, silence filled the room. Both men stood still, the enormity of the act sinking in.

But the stillness was soon followed by a 'thud' noise, caused by the body of the Headmaster hitting the rooks a the bottom of the tower.

"It is done," Voldemort murmured at last. Years of planning, hatred, and anticipation culminated in this moment.

Hogwarts was nearly his. With Dumbledore gone, there was no one left to oppose him.

"All that's left is to ensure no one discovers this," Voldemort said, turning to Snape. "Clean this mess and delay anyone from uncovering the truth. I don't want my plans disrupted."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied, bowing his head.

Voldemort allowed himself a rare smile. "In three days, this castle will be mine."

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