I sat at my desk in the Lestranges' home, listening to Nott's action plan for the werewolves. It's been an hour, I was getting bored…
"By lending these undervalued lands for their use, we create a de facto werewolf state under our protectorate. They use their own means to enforce the law and safeguard the Statute, gradually learning to stop relying on our assistance…"
A "banana republic" was a good idea. But what if they decided they want true independence? We could, of course, crush them later, but it'd waste a valuable resource and tarnish our reputation. 'First they came for the werewolves, are we next?' It was never wise to break promises with living witnesses. I knew better than repeat Grindelwald's mistake of going against the entire world.
"… They can reach full self-sufficiency in approximately fifteen years if we allow them to use wands and train the required number up to the standards of an average civil servant…" he continued.
Giving wands to werewolves was preposterous. The purebloods would throw a fit, what was Nott thinking? Ah, it made sense: his job was to offer the Lord a plan, and any pitfalls of its enforcement were not his problem.
"… In addition to the likes of Greyback, we must recruit a number of civilian werewolves. A state can't function with only psychopathic soldiers. To create the correct optics for our project, we have prepared a series of diversions. The new forcibly turned werewolves are spreading "important news" of the Ministry executioners going on rogue killing sprees. Through bribes and Dolores Umbridge, we are pushing discriminatory and harmful to werewolves laws. It will soon be time to eliminate Umbridge and leak the disinformation about her serving the Order of the Phoenix," Nott talked and talked…
"I must interrupt you. Are there any alternative solutions to the werewolf problem?" I asked, leafing through a stack of parchment the size of Secrets of the Darkest Art .
"They are all detailed in the report as unacceptable. Barring imprisonment and extermination, the only option is curing them. It is impossible. There are stories of werewolves who have learned to control their beast, but they've never been proven to be anything but legends. In any case, it just isn't feasible on a large scale. Wolfsbane is the best method, but the difficulty of brewing and the rarity of some of the ingredients make it prohibitively expensive.
There are rumors of peaceful werewolves living near Hogwarts," Nott continued. "I don't mean the ingredient collectors. The story claims that if two werewolves copulate during the full moon, their offspring will forever remain in the wolf form with a sane mind. But even if it were true, what use do we have for thousands of peaceful wolves? And it would do nothing to solve the present issues. Their condition is somehow tied to the moon. We tried portkeying several werewolves around the world to keep them outside time zones with full moon nights. It indeed prevented the forced transformation, but they all dropped dead soon after. I'm afraid that the only plausible way to remove the curse is to destroy the moon."
Lousy news. Just as expected.
"So no options at all? Only ancient legends? No one in our time has ever described a way to turn a werewolf into a human?"
Corpses were very difficult to chat up, unless they were very fresh. But we could always find common ground with the living.
"No, my Lord."
My sixth sense, legilimency, clearly knew he was lying. How strange…
"Charles, remove all your mind defenses and concentrate on solving the werewolf problem. I will carefully perform legilimency," I ordered.
Riddle's memories advised the Cruciatus, then repeating the question. But first of all, necroenergy. Second, everyone knew the Lord had unparalleled skills in legilimency and always felt a lie, so I was curious what possessed him to try to deceive me.
With a slightly confused expression, he waved his wand to remove his mental shields, then bared his mind.
"Legilimens!" I said, raising the wand I got from Longbottom.
Nott's mind was a mess: exhaustion from working on the werewolf project, disrespectful thoughts about the Dark Lord, dozens of ideas of what to do with Molly Weasley (so far he stopped at the "sleeping beauty" option), and memories of a werewolf cure he read in a fictional story.
" I put my wand to his throat, then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm. He let out a piteous moan, the fur vanished, the fangs shrank - and he turned back into a man, " wrote someone named Gilderoy Lockhart.
To be honest, I was a little jealous of Nott- he had free time to read for pleasure. I looked through his memories and found two books by this author: Gadding with Ghouls and Wandering with Werewolves .
On one hand, it was absurd. Both books described his adventures in first person. If it were true, this Lockhart must either be the level of my Inner Circle elites or a cripple like Moody. Yet the photo on the cover showed… at most, a dainty metrosexual. Well, it was certainly possible that he dressed up for the photo to hype the sales, but he claimed he fought a werewolf hand to hand while worrying about his hair and nails, and defeated it without getting a single speck of dirt on his robes. Personally, I could never defeat a werewolf without magic… Such tactics were just not viable. Some of his spells were obviously made up, he easily switched between different fields and different styles of problem solving. It indicated a wealth of experience, but where did a recent Hogwarts graduate get it? And how did he use magic all around the world without any discomfort? He should have noticed the difficulty away from home. A mutant? Or so weak that he felt no difference?
To his credit, some spells and all of the creatures were described very accurately. So, let's assume that he was a talented writer who described real events. Was it possible that someone cured a werewolf and told Lockhart? Or killed one and spun a grand tale of the cure?
"I am awaiting your explanation," I said.
"My Lord, it was only a fleeting thought, I didn't mean to think of you by your school name, it's just an old memory…" he began to spout excuses.
I kept forgetting Tom hated his name… It made no difference to me, but forgiving him would invite inconvenient questions. And the Dark Lord always punished the same way.
"Crucio!" I said, pointing my wand at him but stopped almost immediately. "This is not my name. But I forgive you for the sake of your many years of faithful service. Make sure to be more respectful. For now, I am interested in a different matter."
"Thank you, my Lord," he said sincerely. He really did consider two seconds of Cruciatus unprecedented mercy. "Yes, I didn't kill Molly Weasley. She can be of some use, she is a pureblood…"
"No, I was talking about Lockhart and his books. Particularly, the story of the Wagga Wagga werewolf."
"My Lord, unlike you, I am a mere mortal and need some way to relax. I got tired of drinking and smoking, so I took up reading fiction. There are so many books to choose from, especially heroic fantasy-"
"Nott, listen carefully. His book describes a spell that turns a werewolf back into a human. The description of the transformation is accurate. The spell is clearly composed of working components, not random syllables. What do you know of it? Have you tried it on a werewolf?"
"To my shame, my Lord, I have. It doesn't work."
"Nott… You are a Dark wizard. If a spell didn't work for you, it doesn't necessarily mean it does not work at all. Perhaps you lack qualifications. Or it is advanced Light Magic. Do you have any information on this Lockhart?"
"Yes, my Lord. He is a self-promoting book author. Constantly travels, visits England for a week every year."
"He must be captured and interrogated. If his book contain even a grain of truth, find it. If he met someone capable of curing a werewolf in his travels, that person must be found and brought to me. They can either teach the spell or heal the werewolves directly, for a fair compensation."
"My Lord… Lockhart is just a half-blood fantasy writer…" he caught my eyes. "Yes, of course. I'll send Gibbon right away."
"And what if he was merely pretending to be a tailor's dummy and fights back?"
"My Lord, he is eighteen…"
"The Longbottoms were in their twenties, do you remember what was left of their house? I was eighteen once, do you think Gibbon could have handled me?"
"I understand, my Lord. I'll lead a team myself."
"No, get back to your paperwork. Find me his location, and I'll send Elena after him."
"As you wish, my Lord."
At one in the morning, I stood in front of Lockhart's house in Elena's guise. An ordinary little house off the beaten path, protected by a standard alarm that summoned the Aurors in case of a break-in. There was a light in one window. The famous author appeared to be relaxing after his travels.
In the habit of assault operations, I searched long and hard for a trick. There was nothing. Only a single alarm to the Auror Department… A trap? Lockhart was leaving within a day to search for new material for his next book. I had to grab him now.
I put up the standard anti-traversing charms and made myself a door in the ward. I probably should have sent a house elf ahead, nothing was ever this easy…
Led by scanning spells, I soon found Lockhart in the largest room. He was wearing fur slippers and a golden house robe. Some charmed combs floated around styling his hair while the man himself was signing letters with an ostentatious peacock quill… The room was full of half-packed luggage with… his portraits?! To top it all, he was completely defenseless except for a mediocre universally shielding amulet and the best commercially available amulet against legilimency.
Well then, he was either a poseur or a new Dumbledore - the old man shared the same style… I thought about carefully breaching his anti-legilimency amulet, but not even I could do it in less than ten minutes. What if he sensed something and escaped? I had blocked portkeys, apparition, house elves, and everything else except phoenixes, but you could never know…
I approahed him and pointed my wavy wand with Nagini's scale at his back. I had perfected the technique of casting Unforgiveables. Their non-verbal forms wasted much more energy, so I simply walked around under specialized charms that muffled the words Avada Kedavra, Crucio, Imperio and some other incantations.
"Crucio!" I said, but Lockhart never heard it. Before the Cruciatus reached his body, it was followed by a great shield penetrator and a chain of wandless stunning, disarming and restraining spells. I flew up and to the side to avoid the spells he would fire back in the direction of the attack.
I counted on the Cruciatus to drop the target. Then his shielding charms would be destroyed as soon as they sprung up from their dormant state, and one of my wandless spells would neutralize him while I dodged the counterattack.
But everything turned out much simpler.
Lockhart got hit with the Cruciatus. He instantly lost consciousness, and the fight was over. Then the rest of my spells reached him. No shields appeared, as if he had none at all. The penetrator fried his universal amulet. And finally, the unconscious and helpless man got paralyzed, tied up, stunned, and so on… Good thing I didn't slam him with a Firestorm!
I ripped off his mind-protecting amulet, fed him the Draught of the Living Death and started an express-search. A lip balm, another lip balm, mirror, manicure kit, Witch Weekly magazine and more of the like… All in his robe pockets!
A few waves of my wand cleaned up the magic traces and gathered Lockhart's things. Everything looked like he left for another trip. I checked his blood for polyjuice and tracking potions. All clear. Some operation… I could have sent Arabella Figg with a baseball bat to do this.
I apparated him to a base, silenced and securely restrained him with both spells and chains. Still invisible, I returned him to consciousness for legilimency- weaker targets were easier to interrogate conscious. I expected to meet at least some resistance - I evidently got too used to talking to Horace. There was no sign of occlumency at all! Forget occlumency: he was easier than Lily, easier than some muggles. Willpower never developed past rudimentary state. This was the simplest case of legilimency in my entire life, mine and Tom's. I struck too hard and fell straight through to his early childhood.
A normal, wealthy family. Witch mother, muggle father, three children. Lockhart realizing he is the only wizard among his siblings. Everything was idyllic: he had magic, his two sisters didn't. He was the best, the chosen one!
Hogwarts. Sorting into Ravenclaw. He no longer felt special. Everyone around him used magic, some better, some worse. I always considered it obvious, but for him it was an unpleasant revelation. He started to put effort into studying, pulling average grades. But there was one crippling flaw: whenever he didn't feel he was the best at something, he lost all motivation. In spite of that, he was consumed by incredible vanity and thirst for acclaim on par with Tom Riddle. It would have led him straight to the Dark Arts, but his squeamishness and sloth coupled with soft-heartedness left him a pathetic underachiever.
Watching his Hogwarts years, I understood he was far from stupid. He began creating his own spells as a schoolboy: his autograph on the quidditch pitch with nine-foot tall letters, an analog of Morsmorde that conjured a ghostly copy of his face… But more often than not, he was content sending out hundreds of owls with cards to himself.
Lockhart had great chances to become a comedian, until he discovered one area where outshined everyone: the memory-erasing charm. His memory charms were flawless! Probably better than mine… And so, he decided to use this talent to carve out a better life for himself.
After Hogwarts, he set out to travel he world. He found witches and wizards who survived encounters with dangerous creatures, subjected their stories to artistic reinterpretation and presented them as his own.
The excellent memory charms saved him from being discovered. So far, he had gone through seven victims to fill two books. He got them drunk to lower their guard, then hit them in the back with one Obliviate, pouring in everything he had. Anyone who lost to this duffer deserved it… But his method was worth remembering. In Lockhart's defense, he worked very carefully: the people he obliviated lost all memories connected to the event but otherwise remained unaffected. He did it not out of compassion but to avoid the law enforcement's attention to a trail of rambling lunatics in his wake.
I moved on to the identities and locations of everyone he obliviated. The wizard who defeated a werewolf by forcefully transforming it back into a human… In reality, he first restrained the wolf and fed him some concoction whose recipe he never revealed to Lockhart. Apparently, the werewolf survived. Lockhart omitted the potion and chains from his story - it wasn't heroic enough.
Fascinating… Was it true? A permanent or temporary transformation? I could probably force a werewolf to turn back into a human on my own… With one good ritual, causing the werewolf a great deal of pain until it dies a few hours later. Flesh Sculpture was a rare torture method that worked briefly, with guaranteed fatal results… Yes, I better find the wizard who told Lockhart about the werewolf and interrogate him. He will remember everything that happened even if it would be the last thing he does: the memory charm could always be reversed at the cost of destroying the patient's brain in the process.
With some effort, I returned from the stream of Lockhart's memories and stunned him. He seemed utterly worthless… But unlike Crouch Sr. and Slughorn who continued to be a pain in the neck even in captivity, this one would be easy to control. I'd find some use for him.
There was no point in trying to manipulate someone this weak when a direct order would do. Coincidentally, I just finished developing, or rather, modifying a slave-branding spell. I had already tested it on prisoners: it still functioned similarly to the Imperius, minus the accompanying "necroenergy." I'd only have to find materials for the ink first…
Charles Nott
Nott felt his family home becoming a thoroughfare. The Dark Lord didn't count, of course. He could go wherever he pleased, it was already a blessing he cut down on Crucios and stopped killing his own people like last year. But the Lord's student was rude to no end!
"Mister Nott, I need to speak to you." He heard the voice of the woman for whom he was doing all the work.
"I'm happy to see you too. However, five in the morning is not a good time. To what do I owe such an early visit?"
"The Dark Lord ordered me to deal with Lockhart and you to assist me."
"I'll take your word for it but will verify the next time I see him. So, what do you want from me?"
"I captured Lockhart and interrogated him with legilimency. He appropriated the deeds of others."
"If he is a dud, why the urgency?"
"Nott! He stole other people's credit! There is a good chance someone out there knows how to force a werewolf back into a human! I have the name, address and appearance of this wizard! You are to depart today and bring him here. Do everything carefully, we can't afford any information leaks!"
Whatever the Dark Lord was teaching her definitely didn't include decorum. But it was better not to say out loud.
"If this is the Dark Lord's order, I'm leaving immediately."
"Wait just a moment. We have to discuss what to do with Lockhart."
"What's there to discuss? Either Obliviate, Imperio or kill him," Charles answered. He knew the organization's procedures well but added Obliviate out of the goodness of his heart.
"I have a better idea. We must find a way for him to serve Master."
"He's no more a wizard than a pixie is a snitch."
"There are many ways to serve the Dark Lord. First of all, Rabastan Lestrange is studying everything under the sun. He can use a new tutor."
"Rabastan is a smart man, he would outdo Lockhart in every way. Or does he need a tutor in writing fiction?"
"No. Lockhart is going to teach Rabastan the Obliviate charm. And only it. He'll practice cleaning prisoner memories."
"Perhaps there is some wisdom in that. Even a rabid hippogriff is good for some spit."
"That's not all. He must do more for the Dark Lord."
"This Lockhart does not deserve the Mark."
"Exactly. That's why Master marked him with a slave brand."
At that, Nott shuddered. No, a slave brand was merely a permanent version of the Imprerius. A wizard of his stature would never get trapped in one outside a threat of immediate death. But even that wouldn't spell the end: the brand could be resisted like the Imperius. Until you got hit with Avada Kedavra, there was always a way out.
But Elena's words meant the following. First, he gave his report to the Dark Lord. The Lord ordered Elena to capture Lockhart. She did, then found the Dark Lord in the middle of the night. And the Lord not only held off the punishment but immediately put a slave brand on the prisoner… Then she came here at five in the morning. Nott lost all desire to argue with the witch who interrupted the Dark Lord in the middle of the night to pitch her plans and left on her own two feet. As his father used to say, there was nothing wrong with the world. The people in it, however…
"And what is your plan?" he asked.
"You are well aware of our problems. Capturing territory is not one of them."
Personally, he doubted that. At least until he'd see Dumbledore's corpse and live ten solid years without revolts against a puppet Minister.
"Crushing the remaining resistance with scorched earth tactics is not a problem either," Elena added.
He very much doubted that too. They'd all hide in expanded spaces, how did she plan to smoke them out then?
"But what use do we have for land without peasants adapted to local conditions?" she continued. "It would bring no profit and take inordinate effort to repopulate."
Well, this cleared up her diagnosis: too much time around Malfoy.
"And how can a writer help with any of that?" he asked.
"Mass media will help. Using his talent of sniffing out rumors, Lockhart will spend his free time searching for people who have done heroic deeds or desperately need a hero to help them. He'll keep claiming the victories as his own. The true authors will be a battle-hardened team led by, let's say, Macnair. We will acquire dangerous magical creatures. The Dark Lord can always find use for another banshee. The creatures can be used in raids and experiments or be taken apart into ingredients to cover the costs of operations. At the same time, we will gain our own celebrity figure: Gilderoy Lockhart. Once we boost his popularity, he'll be revealed as a Death Eater. A Death Eater saving people without expecting anything in return!"
"Would the Dark Lord agree to put his mark on this lowlife? Lockhart is a half-blood, and, as you said, pathetic," Nott doubted.
"If it's necessary for the cause, Master would mark even Dumbledore's corpse."
"Well, all of this is interesting, but why are you telling it to me?"
"Because it is not enough for him to be a renown hero. Are you aware of the plans for Hogwarts after the victory?"
"I know the Dark Lord no longer wishes to kill all the mudbloods and eliminate every house except for Slytherin. At your initiative, we adapted a new plan where Slytherins are in charge of everyone else. All purebloods are automatically accepted, but if they want a different destiny they can go anywhere they please. Ravenclaws invent, Hufflepuffs work, Gryffindors fight and heroically die," he recited.
"And how would you ensure Gryffindor's loyalty?"
"It's your plan, ensure it yourself."
"They need a good Head of House! Gilderoy Lockhart is the perfect candidate!"
"He was a Ravenclaw!"
"But he is so brave! He convinced the Hat to put him in Ravenclaw because he wanted to learn more spells to fight monsters!"
That sealed it, his child had no future at Hogwarts. Durmstrang? No, Karkaroff would be there! It looked like Theodore was going to go to Beauxbatons: beautiful girls, nature, sunshine… and no clowns.
"He is a fraud! It's one thing to dupe journalists at book selling conferences and quite another to have him do actual work! Why are you so bent on destroying Hogwarts education?"
"I have no intention of harming Hogwarts education. Lockhart must be taught to the point where no seventh year can doubt his qualifications! And you'll be the one to do it."
"No! I already have enough on my plate!"
"It is the Dark Lord's order. The Lestranges are busy, Malfoy doesn't see anything past his wallet, Selwyn and Burke are up to their necks in artifacts and antiques, Dolohov and the real soldiers would kill him, and any of our Dark Arts enthusiasts would either kill him or teach him so well that he'd be sent to Azkaban after every class. Children should not see that."
He sighed, realizing that arguing was futile.
"I'll go to the Dark Lord. Not at five in the morning, mind you. If everything you said is true, it will be done."
Having shown Elena out before she could say anything else, Charles burned all of Lockhart's books in the fireplace and ordered his house elf to serve plenty of alcohol. He drank and reflected on where humanism has lead him. Curing werewolves, giving money to blood traitors' children, teaching a writer stunning spells. No need to whitewash the organization, he was a saint already… After the third bottle, he cautiously touched his back. No, no wings yet. Good…
Soon enough, it was dinner time. He downed a potion to cure alcohol intoxication and went to the Dark Lord.
After confirming Nott's orders, I was preparing for work and recalling Tom's days at Borgin and Burke's antique sales. I'd soon get a delivery of one very special object.
The plan was simple. The Hogwarts Board of Governors made arrangements with Ilvermorny to put Isold Sayre's wand on exhibit at Hogwarts for a week. The wand, of course, had to be inspected for curses and damage by experts, both ours and American. And it was all done behind Dumbledore's back in the name of friendship between the two schools and raking in public acclaim.
Regrettably, swapping the wand for a fake would never go unnoticed. I settled for quickly examining it. While the experts were working on the original, I was doing the same in another location. All it took was loaning my Time-Turner to Malfoy. And the experts? Malfoy payrolled them, they stepped out for a moment.
On the table lay Salazar Slytherin's wand. This plain piece of wood hasn't worked in centuries. And after today, it would definitely never work again. Ollivander and I had developed a certain ritual, and it was time to implement it.
So, blood of the heir and a parselmouth, that is, mine. Pieces of the wand's wood: snake tree was easy enough to find. Pieces of the core: finding a basilisk horn was far from easy, but money sometimes worked greater miracles than magic. I, the Dark Lord, could not find a basilisk horn. Lucius Malfoy did. He went back to drinking with Snape right after, but that wasn't my problem.
Having placed everything in its proper spot, I began the ritual.
" I am the heir of Slytherin, your first master! A true parselmouth! I command you with my blood! " I declared and cut myself.
The next step was feeding the sacrifice basilisk venom. It hurt to waste such a valuable ingredient on anything other than poison for Dumbledore, but I had no choice… The chained man died almost instantly.
" With this sacrifice and one more, " I killed a paralyzed magical snake with a knife. A basilisk would've been better, but we had no live ones, not even a baby, " I command you to share all your knowledge with this wand. "
I started tracing the necessary patterns with my wand. About five minutes later, Salazar's wand let out a stream of light that entered the new wand.
The concept was fairly basic: Ollivander created an exact copy of Salazar's wand. With some grueling effort, he even managed to enchant it with a password, Convergence of Spheres in Parseltongue. And now, performing the Reverse Spell on the new wand would allow me to access its history. Too bad it would explode with any other use and was limited to recalling the spells performed by Salazar… Isolte Syre and Hormlate Gaunt also lived interesting lives worth studying.
Having erased the ritual traces, I gave Salazar's wand to the Lestranges to clean it up some more. Dumbledore must not understand anything by looking at it. In worst case scenario, Sytherin's wand emitting Dark Magic was nothing newsworthy. It has always been this way! Or it awakened near Hogwarts, sensing its first home. Or maybe it contained the horn of the basilisk from the Chamber, and being close made the wand remember its youth… We'll come up with something believable.
Examining every spell Slytherin used throughout his turbulent life loaded me with work for a long time to come. Luckily, the Time-Turner meant I wouldn't need to give up my other projects.
The wand soon revealed its last five spells. Movement pattern, verbal form… I was not familiar with the very last one, but it looked like something combat and undeniably Dark. The second to last was cutting wind. A neutral charm, good enough against multiple magically unprotected targets. Next, Blood Marionette. Rotting Swarm. Universal Shield. I wasn't sure how Slytherin lived, but he clearly did not die of old age.
Even if I was mainly interested in battle spells, none of Slytherin's legacy should go to waste. He must have raised wards over his home with this very wand. Some defensive charms required indicating the coordinates… If multiple powerful wards were created at the same location, Salazar Slytherin possibly lived there.
His home was likely reduced to a pile of rubble, but I never hoped for any treasure. I already had a home and money. More? I could shake down the servants but saw no point… Luxury? Why have a private plane when I transported myself anywhere I wished instantly and with much greater comfort? Guards? Laughable. They would only get in the way or try to kill me themselves. A Dark Lord incapable of self-defense was a dead Dark Lord.
On the other hand, a place of power would be very useful both as a weapon and a way to offset my Dark Magic use. I only needed to keep in mind that it didn't save Salazar Slytherin.