HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author note: thank you for all the reviews, and for those who have read chapter 1 and 2 already and were waiting (anxiously I hope) for this one, I suggest a quick second read of chapter 1-2. I made one minor change to clarify the sequence of events, and have put warnings at the beginning to clarify the time threads. For all other readers, welcome to the story!
Chapter 3
New perils in the shadows
The small enclosure was dark, humid, and saturated with the acrid odours typical of old underground tunnels. One could detect the blended aromas of rat and other animal droppings, the acrid smells of a wide range of fluids leaking down from the city above, the fetid smell of sitting water, as well as the putrid stench of decomposing flesh - all this stewing in the hot and damp stillness of an enclosed space that was never refreshed with outside air. In the distance, deep rumblings from the underground trains of London could be heard, mixed with deafening screeches of steel wheels against the tracks and switches, that echoed from every corners of this complex maze of tunnels.
In the corner of the faintly lit room - it had once served as a rest lounge for train conductors, to allow them to sleep and change between shifts - was a shabby bed, on which a form resembling a human body was laid. Another man, wearing a large cloak with a large hood, was calmly tending to the maimed individual, from which a faint moan seemed to be coming.
They both had seemingly been through a difficult ordeal: their cloaks were torn in many places, and dried blood could be seen on the thin lips of the man still standing. There seemed to be little hope for the individual on the bed: he was rasping, trying to catch his breath, and when he turned his body in a supreme effort, the light caught a face that confirmed that death was already starting to settle itself on the ragged body: ashen and white, it was also obscured by contusions due to the lack of oxygenation, and ruptured blood vessels were showing around the eyes and lips.
"Master, please, you shouldn't strain yourself that way, you are very weak", said the man with the hood, as he put a damp cloth on his accomplice's forehead. There was now a hint of worry in his voice.
"There is no time", whispered the dying form… "Come here, close to me, before it is too late!"
The tall man kneeled beside the bed, and moved closer in an attempt to hear his master better. He lowered his hood, and his pale, blond hair - somewhat filthy with sweat, dried blood and mud - shined under the flickering light of the candle slowly burning on a pile of old bricks in the corner of the room.
"Faithful Lucius", murmured the man laying down on the bed, "Potter has grown strong indeed in the last few years… I thought I had conquered death, but - "
The murmur suddenly became a menacing hissing sound. "I was wrong! I grossly underestimated his powers, and now I will pay the price for my foolishness!"
"MASTER! Do not speak in such a way; you shall live on forever, to uphold all that is pure, all that is beautiful, and all that is unadulterated in the Magical World. I will do anything to help you achieve that purpose, we must further everything we stand for!"
The eyes of the dying wizard - nothing more than ophidian slits, really - were closing and opening with increasing difficulty. "It is true, Lucius, that I will live on. However, I have been mortally wounded. Potter's strength… I should have known from the start to kill the source of it. That's what must be done to defeat him. It is now too late for me, but there is still hope."
Lucius Malfoy's face became solemn and grave, and if showing emotions had been forthcoming to Malfoy, perhaps one could have detected a hint of sadness. But he was in no case one to give in to girlish tears.
"Master", he continued with a rigid face, talking between gritted teeth, "tell me what must be done, and your death will be avenged."
The shadow of a wizard that was left of Lord Voldemort lifted himself up in a supreme effort; he managed to sit up on his death bed.
With a rasping, gurgling voice, Voldemort spat, "Lucius, I have chosen you to be my heir… In the last two years, I have shown you much of what I have mastered in the realm of Dark Magic. You are ready. However, there is two things that you must do before you can take over."
"But Master, I am unworthy of your greatness", Malfoy replied with obvious false humility. His eyes were shining with triumph, and if he could have screamed with glee he would have done it. He contained himself, however.
"Malfoy", blurted Voldemort, "there is no time for nice form and such stupidities. We both know that's what you have wanted all these years. Power - the kind only I possessed. Be glad: your time has come at last!"
Malfoy smirked, and said. "Master, I will ensure that your name will continue to live on, and that a new generation of wizards everywhere will be even more terrified to speak it -"
Urgency appeared on Voldemort's dying face. "There is very little time, Malfoy, let's get to it! First, you need to know how to get rid of Potter for good. When you leave here, you will go straight to my secret hiding place, in the dark forests of Serbia. There is a book there -"
Voldemort had to pause, to catch his breath and try to muster enough energy to finish what he had started to do.
His voice was barely a whisper now. "In this book, in which you'll find the explanation of the one thing that Dark Wizards of all times have feared beyond anything else - it is called `The Old Rule', and it is the reason why Potter has survived our attempts to kill him. Find it, and you'll discover the key to destroying Potter, and avenging my name."
Malfoy was now grinning with evil satisfaction. "At last! There will be NOTHING to stand in the way of my - er, your greatness, Master! Pure-blood wizards will rule once more!"
Unexpectedly, Voldemort's body did a sudden jerk, and he grabbed his chest in a last gesture of survival. Seconds later, a trickle of dark, almost black blood started oozing from both corners of his mouth and his nostrils, slowly making its way down his chin. Wincing from the pain of death about to take him away, he continued, in a barely audible whisper.
"One last thing… I - I must perform one final, ultimate curse. It will be on myself, but you - you must put your hand on my body, and look - aaargh!" His face twisted into a pitiful expression of sheer torture, as he fought to keep death at bay. "You - you - you must look at me straight in the eyes. Your - your eyes, Malfoy, must NEVER loose contact with mine - or it will all have been in vain."
Malfoy nodded, and slowly put an unsteady hand on Voldemort's shoulder. He looked into the yellowish, serpentine eyes, and blurted firmly, "I am ready, Master."
Voldemort took out his wand with difficulty, and prepared - almost with relief - to utter his final words. "Malfoy, this curse will end my life - and transfer all my powers, all my knowledge, all my memories, to you… You - you will become the most powerful and feared wizard in the world…"
Malfoy stiffened, filled with anticipation, excitement, and terror - all at the same time. Without blinking, he continued staring into the eyes of the dying man.
Voldemort then pointed his wand towards his own heart, and with everything he had left, he pronounced the curse: "Avada Kedavra - Heritamenta!!"
The room literally exploded into a blinding flash of green light. Malfoy gripped the shoulder of his master and was suddenly overtaken by a flood of images and memories - he heard for a moment the screams of every victim of Voldemort, relived their terror and, with disgust, felt their desperation and last pleading for the sparing of their pathetic lives. The sheer power of the experience would have been enough to kill any ordinary wizard, but after two years of intense training in the Dark Arts, Lucius Malfoy was no longer "ordinary". The light then switched to a mixture of gold and red and Malfoy was levitated from the ground into midair. Images from Voldemort's life started appearing all around, and Malfoy saw Tom Riddle during his years at Hogwarts, he saw Harry's parents dying, he relived the painful road to restoration, and scenes of every confrontation with Harry Potter. Hundreds of images were now appearing and disappearing, images from Voldemort's life that were now being integrated into Malfoy's own memories… Suddenly, he heard a deep, powerful and cavernous voice speaking to him: "LORD VOLDEMORT IS NO MORE. HE HAS PASSED INTO THE REALM OF THE DEAD. BUT HE LIVES ON, THROUGH THE POWER OF THE HERITAGE CURSE. YOU, MALFOY, SHALL NOW BE KNOWN AS… LORD MALDEMORT!!"
A sardonic, devilish laugh suddenly resonated, and it seemed to echo endlessly throughout the tunnels of London's underground…
As instantly as it had started, the curse came to an end, and the room went dark once more; slowly, Malfoy descended to the ground. He felt more powerful than he could have ever imagined. The sensation was elating, and yet frightening at the same time: he was all Malfoy, but all Voldemort - it was like he had lived both lives, the two fused together. His eyes, no longer pale blue, were now of a shiny yellow. Pure evil was now palpable around him. Unable to contain himself, he started laughing, with an evil, hysterical laugh that would have made anyone shiver with terror.
"Potter! HARRY POTTER! You have stomped me for the last time! I will find you, and kill you, once and for all! And it will be a slow, painful death, I promise that!"
Malfoy-Maldemort picked up Voldemort's wand, lifted his hood over his head, and left the room. Only one thing remained on the bed in the corner - the only proof of Lord Voldemort's very existence: an old torn cloak, soiled with mud and blood. One minimal trace, the only testimony left to the fact that a baby had been born, a baby boy who had lived when all others had perished… The boy named Harry had grown-up, and at the tender age of seventeen, despite all odds, had managed to finally put an end to Voldemort's days.
Of Harry Potter, a wise old wandmaker had once said, so long ago it seemed, that the world should "expect great things" from him, hence setting a standard by which Harry - almost instinctively - would live. Harry had no idea, still, of the greatness of his accomplishments to date.
And even less of the path that laid ahead on his way to even more greatness.
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"Draco! Come here at once, son! We have work to do." The booming voice resonated throughout the mostly deserted castle.
With a start, Draco Malfoy abandoned his new broom, that he had just a few days ago convinced his father of purchasing, to promptly go meet him in the mansion's hallway downstairs. Lucius Malfoy was not someone to be disobeyed, particularly now. Draco wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but his dad had not been the same for about a week. He spoke harshly, he looked angry most of the time, and his air of superiority had given way to a downright evil - almost murderous - demeanour, and Draco was positively terrified of him, even if it pained him to admit it.
At seventeen, Draco had become one fine specimen of the wizarding kind. Well above six feet tall, he carried himself with the distinction and the poise of a self-assured young man. He was very athletic, and he couldn't help being noticed when he walked in a room. His muscular frame, his blond hair and narrow, pointed face was rarely ignored by his surrounding - particularly, of course, by young women. His presence was commanding, and he had inherited his father's ability to look down on people he believed to be of lowly origins. He had unfortunately become nastier with words than during his school days, when Harry and his friends had been his favourite targets. He knew better now - he was scared of Harry Potter, and knew that Harry could pin him to the ground with one wave of his wand, and even take his life - if that had been the character of Harry Potter. Fortunately for him, it wasn't. He nevertheless detested Harry, for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, Harry was a celebrity when they had both entered Hogwarts, and for seven years he had constantly stopped Malfoy from being the sole center of attention, more or less relegating him to the shadows. Secondly, Harry's dealing with Voldemort had exposed Draco's father, and even though he was in Slytherin, being the son of an active Death Eater had its disadvantages in school. And finally, he just couldn't stand that Harry seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter. That is why they had become, over the years, enemies - and now, more than ever, mortal enemies.
"DRACO!!" Lucius' voice boomed for the second time.
"Here I am, father", Draco answered, panting after his race down the stairs.
"Prepare a travelling bag, we are going on a trip. And we might be a while, so I suggest that you bring you might need for at least a month. And Draco?" Maldemort's face was now showing signs of impatience.
"Yes, father?" Draco replied, unsure of what his father had in mind.
"No questions, please! You'll know everything you need to know in due time. I'll wait for you outside. Hurry, we must set off before nightfall." Maldemort spun around, and showed himself to the door…
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The mountains of Serbia were unwelcoming, to say the least. Jagged rocks, tangled surface roots that made walking and climbing treacherous, steep inclines, and tall, thick trees that were so close together that daylight never completely made it to the forest floor. The foggy, rainy weather also took its toll: the forest was always damp, freezing cold, and dark - pitch dark, even when the sun was at its peak. Trekking the mountains of Serbia was no walk in the park, and many had gone in never to be seen again. Countless legends and stories had been told and retold about the area, which was riddled with tales of mythical proportions: vampires from Transylvania finding refuge in the mountains centuries ago, tales of werewolves, giants, trolls, and other magical creatures escaping or making their home within the confines of the forest, to name a few. The popular folklore surrounding the mountains gave them an aura of doom and foreboding to anyone who entertained any thought of venturing within its limits. The truth was to be found somewhere in the midst of all the folk tales and legends. The fact was the forest was so dense and inhospitable that it had become, over the centuries, the ideal hiding place for all those who sought to disappear from sight and civilization for a time (or forever), for a variety of reasons - generally not commendable motives. Criminals, outlaws, escaped convicts, magical creatures and other marginalized individuals or groups had often found relative security in the mountainous forests of the Balkans, and most of the stories told about them had some elements of truth at least.
Voldemort himself had found the woods of Serbia to be the ideal place to establish his hidden headquarter; after a journey of many weeks, Lucius Malfoy - Lord Maldemort - and his son Draco had reached, without serious injury, a cave located near the very heart of the forest, hidden from view by a thick cluster of fir trees. Behind the trees was an entrance, the size of a man hole, where the select wizards who even knew of the hideout's existence had to perform a tricky spell in order to be able to get through. Lucius Malfoy had been Voldemort's right hand for the last two years, and only he, Voldemort himself and two other Death Eaters knew the spell.
"Wow", said Draco, looking at the austere looking room after passing through the entrance. "This is no ordinary cave, father… Where are we, exactly?"
They had stepped into a circular space about forty feet in diameter, and about fifteen feet high at its highest point; it looked like an austere yet somewhat distinguished study, not entirely dissimilar to the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts: half the walls of the cave, which would normally have shown bare granite, were covered with dark green tapestries intricately embroidered with silver designs of snake-like creatures, that hung from the point where the walls started caving in towards the center all the way to the cave floor; the other half of the walls seemed to be hidden behind tall bookshelves, but a closer look revealed that the shelves were carved directly within the black granite. They were filled beyond capacity with books of all sizes, parchments, scrolls and all sorts of study materials; the attentive eye could easily pinpoint their one common denominator - they were all, without exception, about the Dark Arts. Their was little light in the cave except for a huge stone chandelier hanging from the ceiling and some candles near a sitting area on the right side of the entrance, made up of a few rigid wooden chairs surrounding two large black granite tables, destined for visitors who wished to sit down and read - or research. Further towards the far end of the cave there was another granite table, behind which a dark dragon leather chair rested - Voldemort's desk, or study table. Behind it, in a small recess of the cave wall that formed a nook almost totally hidden from view, was a bed and a night table. The dark colours, the lack of lighting and the general stony outlook of the cave gave it a morbid, sinister aura - one absolutely needed to be a Dark Wizard to feel at ease in the place.
Lord Maldemort sat down at what used to be Voldemort's desk, and addressed Draco sternly and gravely.
"Son, the time has now come for you to understand the reason of our journey… It is time for you to become a man, an adult - and choose for yourself a side on which you will fight."
Draco squinted, as if trying to gauge what his father was saying… "But Father, I will always be on your side!"
"That is exactly the point. I will speak to you as your father for the last time, Draco", Lucius said with a somewhat menacing tone. He went on to explain the passing of powers that had occurred a week before.
There was a long pause when explanations were finished. Draco seemed at a loss for words, and yet a malicious grin was slowly forming across his pointed chin.
Maldemort continued, "You will now know me as all my followers will - Lord Maldemort, rightful heir to Lord Voldemort, and soon to be the all-ruling Wizard over the Magical World! That is why it will become crucial that you choose a side, and that you pledge your allegiance to me!"
"Father, why don't we - "
"SILENCE! YOU WILL ADRESS ME AS LORD MALDEMORT - LUCIUS MALFOY IS NO LONGER, EVEN TO YOU!"
Draco quickly corrected himself. "Forgive me, Great Lord, this is sudden, I meant no disrespect… I swear, before you and every member of our noble family and everything that will have stood for over the centuries, that I will serve you - even to death!
Maldemort seemed pleased. "Very well, very well. Now -"
"Will our first objective be to get rid of Harry Potter, Master?"
"Indeed, Draco, indeed. There is a way - and it is to be found in this very room! We must look for a very old Dark Magic Grimoire, entitled `Imperium Antiquus' - `The Old Rule' … Let's get to it now."
It didn't take them long to come upon the book, since it was one of the thickest and oldest volume in the whole cave, and was adorned - once the dust was removed - with a bright burgundy leather cover. Lord Maldemort laid it with great care on the stone desk, sat down solemnly and perused it with a malicious grin. He finally stopped at a particular chapter, and started to pay more attention. He read the chapter carefully, and then read it again. After reading it a third time, he got up and carefully closed the book.
He lifted up his arms towards the ceiling in a gesture of triumph, looked up, fire in his eyes, at the big stone chandelier hanging from the highest point of the cave, and started laughing out loud, without stopping - "Potter, this is the end! You are MINE, and you will pay! Revenge will be sweet to all Pure-blood Wizards!"
Draco was extremely excited and jumped with enthusiasm, and started towards the desk to look at the book for himself. He tried to open it on the table where Maldemort had laid it down.
Maldemort turned around very swiftly, and a split-second later pronounced the curse: "Crucio!" Draco was catapulted on the wall behind him and fell to the floor, writhing with pain, that fortunately for him didn't last very long.
"YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS in this book, Draco! Only I can have access to it - and those who try will pay with their life! This was a warning! You heed my orders, and do not try to interfere! Your time will come, just as it did for me. But you will first learn to submit yourself to the Dark Lord!"
With a faint whisper, Draco replied, "Yes, Master!" He painfully got back up, and even though his pride had been quite beaten, he managed to sit down on one of the chairs, panting. He shot a glance at Lord Maldemort, who had gone back to studying the book. His yellowish, serpentine eyes turned again to Draco, and with a malevolent smirk, he got up and started walking back and forth across the room, like an elated teacher about to give the most important lecture of his life.
"Draco, listen! This book, Imperium Antiquus, is the foundation upon which the Magical world has existed for thousands of years. In it are enunciated many unbreakable principles, that make the Wizarding world possible - without them, we could not and would not exist. They were set down, at the dawn of times, by the first men who discovered they had abilities that surpassed those of their fellow human beings. One of the most foundational - if not THE most important - of them all is the one they call `Imperium Antiquus', `The Old Rule' - so crucial is it that the whole book was named after it. It states, to put it plainly, that Wizards and Muggles co-exist in a delicate, very fragile balance. And more importantly, the Old Rule explains that to give Muggles a chance - since they have no magical powers -they were given, at the beginning of times, ONE ability that Wizards would never have fully. It is the power of community, the power of unity, the ability they have to sustain one another - as a race, and as individuals - through the most formidable obstacles. In short, it is the power of determined, unbridled, unconditional love. It is that power, manifested by his mother dying to save his life, that allowed Potter to survive Voldemort - and later, to defeat him at such a young age… Voldemort said he should have known to kill the SOURCE of it, and I am now seeing what he meant.
Draco's face showed he didn't quite understand how this fact, which he considered a weakness - caring for others - could help them get rid of Harry Potter.
"I see you don't quite follow, but wait - here is the key. The founding wizards also stated that to insure there would always be a balance between the two worlds, the Wizarding kind would also be linked forever through this Muggle power of `community'… And to make absolutely sure of that, the founding Wizards performed a complex charm that propagated itself to the entire Muggle race. This charm allowed that once in a while, at random, a full-fledged Wizard would be born from two Muggle parents, a cross-over - and this would be enough to keep the two worlds inextricably linked together, without one taking the other over. The presence of cross-overs amongst the pure-blood wizards would make sure, they figured, that the two worlds would survive alongside each other. But! Listen carefully to what the rule says after."
Maldemort walked back with excitement towards his table, where the book was laid, and started reading from it.
"But reader, beware! Should there be a sinister day when not one single cross-over is left, one should cry out for a black plague to sweep the land and shorten the sufferings. For the death of the last of the cross-over will bring dark skies, and allow for evil forces to fill the land. The Old Rule will be no more, and those who would seek power, for power's sake, will reign free."
Draco was thinking furiously hard, but couldn't still quite see the big picture. He was starting to get an idea, though, and looked inquisitively at his master for more insight.
"DON'T YOU SEE? There lies the key to killing Potter, and to establishing our true kingdom as Dark Wizards! Potter's power comes from this `love', from this energy he gets from Muggles! His mother was one, he's a half-breed. But better yet - if we eliminate all the cross-overs, the wizards born from two Muggle parents, we will bring about the death of the Old Rule. And we'll be able to take over the world, and establish ourselves as rulers, once and for all!
Draco finally - and quite suddenly - got it. His years with Crabbe and Goyle hadn't helped his power of reasoning… "Mudbloods! We have to kill the Mudbloods!", he snickered to himself, wide-eyed. He immediately got up from his chair and a twisted, malicious smile stretched from one side of his face to the other as he looked straight at Lord Maldemort, who seemed to enjoy seeing Draco finally grasping the big picture.
"Oh, I know just where to start, Master! Please, let's kill that filthy Granger Mudblood! Potter never admitted it, but he always had a thing for her, and she for him. We'll kill two birds with one stone! We will launch our master plan, and we will weaken Potter at the same time!"
"That", Maldemort said with a decisive look, "is an excellent plan, Draco, an excellent plan. That is EXACTLY where we'll start..."
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