Chapter 61
Even the Chief Goblin’s heart caught in his throat – a weak and soft-hearted wizard the child may be, but he was still a child, face to face with a dementor.
The child smiled, hand reaching up to gently grasp the dementor’s, before he dropped his hand back to his side and watched the dementor glide back to Dumbledore.
The old man began to thrash in his bindings, eyes wide in panic. The dementor leaned close, a rattling breath sucking in long and slow, as Dumbledore turned his face helplessly to the black mouth under the black ragged hood. The crowd watched on in abstract horror and morbid fascination as the man’s soul was pulled carefully from his body, bit by bit. The atmosphere of terror seemed to fade a little while the dementor was feeding, making more people look up and watch the nightmarish scene before them.
‘Expecto Patronum!’ roared James Potter. He stood against the outer wall, still leaning heavily against it where he landed several minutes ago.
The patronus crashed into the dementor, sending it reeling back with a shriek, before it fled the large foyer. At once, the dismal atmosphere faded, and people blinked, looking around uncertainly.
Dumbledore lay on the ground, half conscious and all mad, gibbering and drooling and utterly broken.
Nobody moved for a long moment, frozen and lost.
Madam Bones was doing an admirable job of trying to coordinate a plan in her mind, but she stopped short when the little boy – theDark Lord’s son – moved to crouch beside the half-destroyed old man.
‘Be careful, little one,’ she said sternly. ‘He is not in his right mind. Step back, please.’
The boy ignored her, turning to look at his father and beckoning him closer.
Potter’s wand moved again, but with a yelp, he was suddenly tied and gagged and wandless. Madam Bones glanced around and found Sirius Black holding his wand steady and keeping Potter under control. She gave him a stern look, warning him silently not to take advantage of this situation. Black looked seriously back, fully aware of the gravity of this whole perplexing and unexpected scene.
Madam Bones turned back to the gibbering mess of what remained of Albus Dumbledore, and eyed the Dark Lord and small boy crouched beside him.
The boy was waving his hands – sign language, she supposed – while the Dark Lord paid careful attention. When the boy paused, the Dark Lord sighed.
‘Yes, it seems Father Death probably knew this was going to happen. What would he like you to do?’
The boy signed something else and shuffled a little closer.
‘Wait a moment, Ha- Henry. Let me explain first.’
The Dark Lord stood, brushing his robes and smearing a hand through the tacky blood over his chest. He took a steadying breath and began to speak.
‘I am the Dark Lord. My name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I became the Dark Lord when I turned seventeen. At the time of my appointment, there had been no Dark Lord in Britain for nearly ten years. As a result, the Dark wixen of our community have suffered greatly. I was still practically a child when I became the Dark Lord, and so I made many mistakes. The worst of which, I see in retrospect, was trying to overcome Albus Dumbledore. This lead me down a path of desperation and violence, and I lost sight of my purpose and duty. This young boy came into my life rather unexpectedly, and has quite clearly shown me the error of my ways. I have been working to atone for my wrongs, and working to aid my people wherever I can. I have been working from the shadows, but now I am able to step into the open. My name is Dark Lord Thomas Marvolo Riddle, and this is my son, Henry Thomas Riddle.’
The boy – Henry – stood and moved to his father’s side, reaching for his hand.
‘Henry was not born my son, but Lady Magic has blessed us, and Henry is my blood-adopted child. I will not allow his life to be the subject of scrutiny or rumour, however I will not hide who he is. At his naming during the blood adoption ritual, he was named thus; Henry Thomas Riddle, Heir Slytherin, Heir Riddle, Heir Black, Heir Peverell, and Shepherd of Death.’
Nobody knew how to react, before a voice called boldly, ‘What is a Shepherd of Death?’
The Dark Lord gave a slight nod and opened his mouth to answer. Henry tugged at his hand, and the Dark Lord looked down at him. ‘You wish to answer?’ he asked quietly.
Henry took a step forward and began signing, the Dark Lord translating. ‘When I was younger, before dad Tom, I live with very bad people. Hurt me always. One day I go away, meet Father Death. Father Death tell me not time yet. Father Death bring me back. Tell me, stay and help souls. I am Shepherd for Father Death. I help souls find him and go to peace.’ Henry crouched beside Dumbledore again. ‘This man soul broken. Big ghost- er, dementor,’ the Dark Lord corrected, ‘dementor eat some soul, get scared and leave some behind. I am Shepherd. Father Death tell me to help. I help last piece of soul to go to peace. Not hurt.’ Henry waited a beat for the Dark Lord to finish translating, before he settled beside the still mumbling, twitching form of the formerly powerful wizard.
The crowd watched, gobsmacked, as the boy’s eyes began to glow, and a faded scar that ran down his cheek and along his neck also glowed. The boy reached a hand over Dumbledore’s body and drew a strange symbol. At once, the life left the old man’s body. The boy drew the symbol again over the old man’s head, then again over his own chest.
‘What have you done?!’ shrieked Potter, shoving his way through the crowd. ‘He just killed Albus Dumbledore! Arrest them!’
Irritated faces met his demands, before they turned back to face the small boy who had apparently just sent a soul to ‘Father Death’.
Potter dropped to his knees beside Dumbledore, shaking his shoulders fruitlessly.
Madam Bones’ wand flicked, and Potter was sharply pulled away from the body and handcuffed. Potter was shouting obscenities and violent threats from his position on his knees, until an Auror gagged him and looked to Madam Bones.
‘Permission to remove him to a cell until he calms down, boss?’
‘Granted.’ Madam Bones said shortly. She turned back to face Dumbledore’s body, trying to determine the best way to go about removing it respectfully. After a brief pause, she placed a round disc on his chest and tapped it with her wand. The portkey whisked him away, leaving the small boy and the Dark Lord crouched beside empty space.
The Dark Lord stood and looked Madam Bones in the eye. ‘I am aware that you will require us to join you at the Ministry for questioning. However, I wish to request that my son be seen to first. I do not know how he came to be taken from my home, and I can see that his wrist at the very least needs to be assessed.’
Madam Bones nodded. ‘Very well. I shall arrange a healer to attend you at the Ministry.’
‘Respectfully, Madam, I would prefer my own doctor – Marius Black.’
Surprised whispers ran around the room at that. The Dark Lord was attended by a squib muggle doctor?!
Madam Bones frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. ‘A doctor? A squib?’
‘Yes, Madam Bones. Sirius, would you mind fetching Marius and escorting him to the Ministry?’
Sirius nodded, turning on his heel and striding quickly out of the foyer, apparating from the front steps with a sharp crack.
‘Shall we walk, Madam Bones, or do you have a portkey prepared?’ The Dark Lord asked politely.