The Erlking

I had forgotten how much I hated Deathly Hallows, until I had to skim through it to find all the information I needed to destroy the Horcruxes. And now I’ll have to go through similar hassle for INDELIBLE, and possibly for SOUL SEEKER unless I change my mind about that chapter.
Hate Horcruxes too. There will be no Deathly Hallows in THE ERLKING.

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Short chapter, I know, but it’s only really about the Horcruxes and how much can you write about stabbing them with a sword?

Words: 2,871
Chapter 14
Cataclysm
October 9th 1996.

There are some people in the world who believe everything they hear, and then there are others who must question everything they hear but yet never fully believe in it. And then, those like Dumbledore, just know things from the moment they hear them, they know it to be true or untrue. Such was the case when Dumbledore heard Voldemort had attempted to split his soul a seventh time. Dumbledore knew that was the truth. However, when told that the Horcrux had failed, had been destroyed along with Voldemort’s body because of Harry Potter, Dumbledore had known that to be false. There was a seventh Horcrux. Eight pieces of a soul, if the fragment housed within Voldemort’s own body was included, and Dumbledore had destroyed two of them.

The third lay flat, in the palm of his left hand.

It was a thick gold chain, and it was coiled around a pendant the size of a chicken egg. The pendant had an ornate ‘s’ carved onto it, filled with many small green stones. The stones shimmered as Dumbledore twisted his wrist, rotating his hand, so he could view the locket from different angles.

It was a locket that hung of the chain, Dumbledore knew that, but he just could not get it to open. With a sigh, he laid the locket, Slytherin’s locket, on the floor of the room he was standing in. He was in his office in Hogwarts, and from the wall facing his desk he took down Gryffindor’s sword. He gave a faint smile as the ruby caught the light, and then he brought the point of the sword down on the locket, lying innocently on the floor. The seemingly harmless locket gave a violent shriek, a cry of pain emanating from the object itself as it cracked open, and a viscous black fluid began to seep from it like blood.

It was more like tar than blood, and Dumbledore took a step back so it would not touch him. He had been lucky with the last one. Minerva had cried out to him as he was about to slip Gaunt’s ring onto his finger, and coming to his senses he had thrown it from him until he had regained control over himself. He had destroyed it, and managed not to die from a horrible curse.

When the black substance stopped seeping forth, there was a small flash of white light and Dumbledore could swear Harry was standing before him, flanked on either side by his parents.

James snarled at him. “You failed us, you failed Harry.”

“You let us die!” Lily cried, wringing her hands in front of her.”

“He’ll kill you, you know.” Harry whispered sounding like a lost little child. “He’ll kill me when he realizes I’m not a Horcrux anymore.”

Of course, they weren’t really there; Dumbledore knew that. Tom Riddle’s soul was clinging to any last chance it could find and that included weakening the morale of its destroyer in the hopes of overtaking the other body. But Dumbledore would not let Tom take possession of him, not like he did to Ginny Weasley.

It was wrong that Harry was no longer a Horcrux, he was. Dumbledore however, as good as he was at knowing whether things others told him were true or false, he was not very good when it came to believing things he had said. He believed that the Erlking would have removed the Horcrux, so as to have full possession of Harry, but he thought wrong. If someone else had come up with that idea, he might have realized how foolish it would be, and realized how pointless it would have then been to give the boy – minus the Horcrux – to Voldemort. But because Dumbledore, himself, had said it, he had believed it to be right without further consideration.

That was foolish of him.

The ghostly figures of the Potters disappeared, along with their whispered accusations. There were four more Horcruxes to go. Albus Dumbledore, however, believed there to be three left.

XXX

October 11th 1996.

It had been difficult to gain possession of the fourth Horcrux. Bellatrix Lestrange had hid Helga Hufflepuff’s cup away inside of the Lestrange family vault. Eventually, Dumbledore had come up with a plan that was brilliant beyond belief and more than worthy of executing. First, they had drawn the Death Eaters out with more attacks on the family manors of Dark Wizards. Then, with their sights set on any of the three Lestranges (that were freed from Azkaban, with Sirius Black) all the members of the Order cast an ‘accio’ simultaneously. The only one to let go of their wand was Rabastan, the youngest.

With the wand in their possession, the Order had set about choosing one of their own to fool the Gringotts Goblins. After casting various glamour charms on different members of the order, it was decided that Neville Longbottom deserved the chance. Neville’s parents had been driven to insanity by the Lestranges’ and were never going to recover. He had joined the Order the second Voldemort had returned. Without Harry around, the Order had made do with the other Prophecy child.

When Neville returned from Gringotts, he was shaking from head to toe. “I think they almost figured it out. I was attacked walking out of the doors. I ran,” he added with a bashful shrug. He held the cup out to Dumbledore.

Albus left the room with it, the sword of Gryffindor in his other hand. The cup was small and golden, with two handles and a little badger engraved on the front side. When Albus returned ten minutes later, he had neither artefacts with him.

Ravenclaw’s diadem was next, and Albus had a very good idea where it was.

XXX

It was faint, but it was there. A soft niggling feeling in the back of your mind, telling you something was wrong or that you’ve forgotten about something. But no matter how long the feeling lasts, you never quite seem to recall what the feeling was about.

Voldemort was experiencing something similar, and it had been happening for a few days now. First it was just a tingling sensation up and down his arms, like pins and needles. Harry would smile as he complained about the feeling, and would rub his arms softly. Then his head would throb, just lightly, only enough to mildly annoy him but not cause him any actual pain. But after four continuous days it was starting to become a painful inconvenience. Harry would again smile, and massage his temples.

Then it had begun to get worse. As he slept, he dreamt of black tar, seeping forward from the darkness around the edges of his minds eye, trying to choke him. Where it came from, he was sure he should know, but the thought always eluded him. It was important; he knew that also, but why. Why was it important? That was what he didn’t know, but it was also what he needed to know.

His temper was suffering for it. It was shorter than it used to be, and more often than not a Death Eater would suffer a Cruciatus rather than just a verbal tongue lashing because Voldemort was having bad feelings. They had quickly learnt not to test his patience overly.

Harry brushed the matter away. They had plenty of other things to worry about, and “if it was that important, you’ll remember eventually,” he insisted with another soft smile. Voldemort briefly thought he could become addicted to Harry’s smiles, and Harry’s kisses and touches and everything about the boy. The longer they spent together the closer Voldemort came to admitting to them both that he was in love with the younger Wizard.

But now wasn’t the time.

XXX

October 15th 1996.

Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady ghost of Ravenclaw tower had led Albus to the next Horcrux. After stealing it, and hiding it in a hollow tree in a forest in Albania, then being killed by a jealous would-be-lover, she had betrayed her secret to a charming young man named Tom Riddle, who had searched for the diadem, found it and hidden it within the walls of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore stood outside the door to the Room of Requirements. He had asked for ‘somewhere to hide something’, and he hoped what the room had provided would be adequate. He opened the door and went inside.

An hour later, after calling in a few members of the Order to help him search, they had found an old, discoloured tiara perched on the top of a bust of Ravenclaw. Dumbledore removed it reverently and with a resigned sigh, cast, “fiendfyre!” The cursed flames leapt to life, consuming the tiara but strangely not catching onto Dumbledore’s hand or clothing. He remained totally unharmed, even as the other Order members ran for the door, the flames, in the shape of mythical creatures, chased after them.

Again the black tar-like substance burst forth from the diadem, as with a shriek of agony, the headdress split in half falling to the floor with twin thuds. Dumbledore left the room unharmed, and closed the door, allowing the Fiendfyre to burn itself out.

In Malfoy Manor, Voldemort collapsed to the floor half way through a Death Eater meeting. His hand flew to clutch at his forehead and an agonized scream tore its way out of his throat. Harry was by his side in an instant, and his presence brought Voldemort relief.

“My Lord?” One or two of the braver Death Eaters called out. He gave a groan, and tried to stand, refusing to look weak in front of his followers.

Harry turned his head to look at them, but his eyes were fixed upon Voldemort’s crumpled form. “Leave us.”

Remus remained with them, at Harry’s side, as always. “Something is wrong.”

“So it would seem,” Harry answered non-committally. Perhaps the pain would jump-start Voldemort’s memories?

XXX

As Ravenclaw’s diadem was destroyed the Erlking stood silently in the doorway, watching the flames climb higher and higher, trapped within the room. He smirked a little, and allowed a chuckled to escape from his throat as the Order members began to run for their lives. Yet Dumbledore remained behind. Perhaps, Audenarde thought, he truly did not fear death. Or was there something he was not sharing?

A few students wandered past the room, but a handy notice-me-not charm kept them from being overly curious. They walked past, and around the corner just as Dumbledore left the room. He shut the door, a tired smile on his face, and nodded to the Order members. Severus Snape was tense, while Minerva and Kingsley were elated. They were that much closer to defeating Voldemort and rescuing Harry!

Severus didn’t know what that tiara was, nor what it symbolised but he knew there was something bad happening. He also knew that, as soon as possible, he should inform the Dark Lord.

He excused himself, and as he was walking away he heard Dumbledore whispered to himself. Once sentence, but it sent shivers up his spine nonetheless. “Just Nagini left, Tom, and then it’ll be over.”

The Erlking watched Severus walk away, but he did not try and stop him. No, let the man tattle, it would not make a difference in the long run. It was too late to save the Horcruxes and it was too dangerous to make more. Voldemort would just have to be clever and realize what Dumbledore did not. Audenarde chuckled again, pulling his hood up to cover his head and face. He wondered, firstly if Harry would tell Voldemort he was a Horcrux, and secondly, if not, if Voldemort would figure it out before it was too late.

XXX

Voldemort had relocated to his bedroom with Harry and Remus’ help. They lay him gently down onto the bed and Harry immediately crawled over to lie beside him. Voldemort lovingly ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, sighing exhaustedly.

“I need to find out what’s happening.” He whispered to Harry, though he knew Remus could hear him clearly. It was one of the perks of being a werewolf.

“You need to rest.” Harry replied with a frown.

Before anymore could be said, a knock came at the door. Remus answered it as he knew very well that Harry was far too comfortable to be bothered to move. Lucius Malfoy stood, looking utterly nervous, with Severus beside him. “He has news for our Lord.” Lucius said.

Remus allowed the both in, and sat at the edge of the bed without a word. Severus began to speak. “I told Albus you had called me, Sir.” Voldemort just nodded. He was too weary to speak. His head still throbbed. “Albus, Minerva, Kingsley and I were searching a hidden room in Hogwarts for a tiara earlier. Albus said it once belonged to Ravenclaw.” Voldemort sat up straighter, his mouth falling open, eyes wide with fear and horror. Harry and Lucius looked worriedly at him. Severus continued to speak, he hoped to finish before he lost his nerve or was punished. “When I was leaving, I heard him say that Nagini was all that was left before it was over. My Lord?” He asked hesitantly.

“No,” Voldemort breathed. “It can’t be. How could he have known?”

“About the Horcruxes?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. As one of those who collect the souls of the dead and the dying Harry was rather disappointed in himself for not realizing what was happening had to do with items used to avoid death. The items contained pieces of soul, and Harry was annoyed that he had been so caught up in this new life that he had not felt the souls dying. Maybe, he mused, it was because there wasn’t enough of a soul to feel?

“How did you-?” Voldemort asked before shaking his head. “Severus, go back to the school. Lucius, you will accompany me.” Severus bowed and left the room. Despite Harry’s protests, Voldemort rose from the bed, and with a hand on Lucius’ shoulder for support they left the room together.

He knew his diary had been destroyed; there was no question about it. So first, they headed to Little Hangleton. The village his filthy Muggle father had lived in before his death. The cottage across the road from Riddle Manor was their destination. But in spite of a very thorough search using magical and Muggle means, neither Wizard managed to find the Slytherin heirloom ring. Dumbledore had already destroyed it. An owl was sent to Gringotts. A return letter arrived as they apparated to their next location. It informed Voldemort that Rabastan Lestrange had taken the golden cup from his vault, but that the Goblins also believed the man to be an impostor but it had been too late to stop him by that point. Voldemort was not impressed, to put it lightly.

Their next location was the top of a cliff at a small beach over looking the sea. Without help this time, Voldemort climbed down into the mouth of a small cave, the blond following him. With a whispered word a small cut appeared on his palm. Voldemort pressed the cut to the wall before him, smearing the blood across the stone. The wall slid out of the way, allowing the two Wizards passage beyond it. They came to a small lake, its water churned violently as they approached a small wooden boat moored at the edge of the lake.

The water was murky and Lucius sneered in distaste as he followed his Lord into the boat. They reached the small island in the centre of the lake in minutes, and with another whispered spell, Voldemort levitated a golden locket, on a thick gold chain, out of the silver chalice filled with some kind of potion. “I would have to drink that, if it were anyone but me.” He remarked as Lucius looked on curiously.

Voldemort was rather pleased with himself. If he had the locket, that meant Dumbledore was wrong. There was more than just Nagini standing between the two of them.

Reverently, Voldemort tried to pry the locket open. If it did not open, he would be safe, for long enough to finally defeat the interfering old man. If it opened, however, well –

The moment the locket popped open and a slip of paper, that had not been there when Voldemort had last held the locket, fell to the floor, Voldemort let out a blood-curdling scream. The scream echoed off the walls of the small cave, and the lake water burbled and crashed violently against the little wooden boat. Lucius moved to the boat and sat in it, hoping to escape his master’s wrath. Voldemort continued to scream. The locket had fallen to the floor, and Voldemort dropped to his knees beside it, roaring out his anger.

How the locket was taken, Voldemort would never know, and the thief was very unlikely to ever share that secret. His eyes focused on the words on the paper that had fluttered down by his knee. It read, ‘prepare for the next great adventure’.

The little piece of paper was signed ‘A. D.’

XXX

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Thanks for reading… off to the next chapter, eventually.

In other news, The Lambs look like it will win by well over 20 votes, so I have the first chapter written for when I finish The Erlking. Here is a teaser.

>> The elderly man runs his fingers over the boys face and head, his own eyes sliding shut. With a nod he raised his hands to the sky and curled his fingers inwards. Clouds gathered above his head and the rain began to pour, but it fell only on the child. When the rain stopped, Harry was soaked to the bone, but he did not shiver. Instead Harry giggled lightly, and waved his arms above his head copying the older male. The clouds come back, but instead of rain, lightening flashes above their heads. Once bolt fell suddenly, and struck Harry dead on the forehead. The boy stopped moving, and the clouds dispersed.

“He is Elemental.” The old man said softly. Lily ran forward, disregarding the rules of the ceremony and picked her child up. She shook him gently in her arms until he stirred. As an Elemental, their element had no power to harm them, but he had still been struck by lightening and she was his mother. She had a right to worry. Harry wailed as he opened his eyes and Lily ran her fingers over the cut on his forehead. She closed her eyes, willing the power of the earth to flow up through her feet and into her fingers. With a smile, she opened her eyes in time to watch the skin knit itself up, closing the wound and leaving only a lightening bolt shaped scar. She lay him back down on the table.

Harry continued to wail. As he cried thunder rumbled and the light began to fade. Out of nowhere the moon appeared, bright and full and it blotted out the sun. Those who were gathered to watch the ceremony screamed as rain began to pelt them, followed by hailstones. It was pitch black and while they ran around screaming, the elderly man only laughed. “Oh, he is powerful,” he cried to the full moon, “he will do great things.” <<

That was a rather long teaser… Am thinking of cutting it…