27
The pre-dawn air held a crisp bite as Alice made her way to the palace entrance. She'd opted for practical clothing – fitted dark trousers tucked into dark boots, a cotton blouse under a thick traveling cloak. Her hair was pulled back in a simple plait rather than her usual formal styles. If they were going to be exploring ancient magical sites, she reasoned, she might as well be comfortable.
"How... unexpected," came his silky voice from behind her. "I don't believe I've seen you dressed quite so... practically before."
She turned to find him studying her with that familiar mix of amusement and curiosity. "I thought climbing around stone circles in formal dress might prove challenging, my Lord," she replied. "Though if you'd prefer I change—"
"No," he cut her off, something like approval flickering in his crimson eyes. "It's... refreshing to see you've thought this through."
"I do occasionally have good ideas," she said, then quickly added, "my Lord."
His lips curved slightly. "Occasionally," he agreed, his tone dry. "Though I notice you managed to arrive early. Eager to escape your books?"
"After you so graciously suggested I needed rest?" She matched his tone. "I wouldn't dare disappoint."
For a moment, that dangerous amusement played across his features. Then his expression sobered. "The magic we'll be working with today is... volatile. You'll need to stay close and follow my instructions precisely. Do you understand?"
She nodded, suddenly very aware of the trust he was placing in her. "Yes, my Lord."
He extended his arm. "Then let us begin your practical education."
As she placed her hand on his arm, she felt the familiar pull of apparition – though somehow smoother than when others had transported her. The last thing she saw was the faint smile playing at his lips, as if he knew exactly how much she'd been looking forward to this moment.
They materialized on a windswept hill, the pre-dawn sky painted in shades of violet and deep blue. Below them stretched the Scottish Highlands, wild and untamed, morning mist clinging to the valleys like ghostly lakes. The air felt different here – charged somehow, making the fine hairs on Alice's arms stand on end.
"The ley lines," Voldemort explained, noting her reaction. "Even those without magic can sense them in places where they run close to the surface." His eyes glinted with something like satisfaction. "Your sensitivity to them is... intriguing."
Alice rubbed her arms, trying to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with the crisp morning air. "It feels like the moment before lightning strikes."
"An apt description." He began walking down a barely visible path, his movements graceful despite the uneven ground. "The ancients believed these lines were the earth's own magic, raw and untamed. They built their stone circles at points where multiple lines intersected, creating... focal points."
Alice followed, her boots finding purchase on the rough terrain. "Like a natural amplification system?"
He glanced back at her, that familiar pleased expression crossing his features when she made connections he approved of. "Precisely. Though modern wizards have largely forgotten their true potential."
They crested another hill, and Alice's breath caught. Below them, partially shrouded in morning mist, stood a massive stone circle. Unlike the famous tourist sites she'd seen in books, this one felt alive somehow, the ancient stones humming with untapped power. Teams of wizards moved between the megaliths, their wands tracing complex patterns in the air.
"Watch," he commanded softly, drawing his wand. With a complex series of movements, he sent a pulse of magic toward the nearest stone. The air seemed to ripple, and for a moment, Alice could have sworn she saw golden lines of force connecting the massive rocks, like a spiderweb of pure energy.
"Beautiful," she breathed, forgetting formality in her wonder.
His lips curved slightly at her response. "This is only the beginning. Come."
"You see?" Voldemort turned to her, his tone laced with dry amusement. "Just innocent stones. Ancient rocks arranged in circles by our ancestors who clearly had nothing better to do with their time." His eyes glinted. "Nothing remotely sinister about that, wouldn't you agree?"
Alice couldn't help but smile at his sardonic delivery. "Of course not, my Lord. Perfectly ordinary stones that just happen to thrum with magical energy."
"Precisely." His lips curved at her response. "however, your sensitivity to their power is... fascinating."
A sudden breeze caught her attention, carrying with it an unfamiliar scent – sharp, fresh, with a hint of salt. Her eyes widened. "Is that...?"
"Ah," he watched her reaction with interest. "You've never seen the ocean, if I recall correctly."
"No," she breathed, turning toward the scent. "I never left the estate before..." Before you, she didn't say.
Without quite meaning to, he found himself leading her along a narrow path that wound through the heather. They emerged onto a cliff top, where the North Sea stretched endlessly before them, painted in shades of steel and silver under the morning sky.
Alice caught up, standing beside him, close enough that he heard her breath hitch. "It's..." she turned to him, face alight with joy, cheeks flushed from the wind and excitement. "My Lord, it's incredible."
Something in her expression – that pure, unguarded delight – caught him off guard. The wind had pulled strands of hair loose from her plait, and her eyes were bright with an almost childlike wonder. For a moment, she looked utterly transformed by joy.
He found himself watching her, struck by the realization that he had brought her here for no reason other than to see that look of pure delight on her face. There was no tactical advantage to showing her the sea, no carefully calculated lesson to impart. He had simply... wanted to.
The thought was troubling. He pushed it aside, focusing instead on how the ley lines hummed beneath their feet, on the project that would reshape magical Britain. But his eyes kept returning to her profile against the dawn sky, and that strange protective impulse he'd dismissed the night before stirred again.
"I never imagined it would be so vast," Alice said softly, still gazing out at the horizon where steel-gray waves met the lightening sky. The wind tugged more strands of hair free from her plait, and she didn't bother to fix them. "It makes everything else feel... small."
"The ocean has that effect," he replied, watching how her eyes tracked the movement of the waves below. "Even magic seems... diminished before such raw power."
She turned to him then, her expression open with wonder. "Is that why the ley lines feel stronger here? Because of the ocean?"
Always the scholar, even in moments of pure joy. The thought amused him more than it should have.
"In part," he answered. "The ancients believed the sea held its own kind of magic – wild, untameable. They built many of their strongest circles near the coast, trying to harness that power."
"Did they succeed?"
"Some did." His eyes gleamed. "Though their methods were... lost to time."
She nodded, turning back to the sea, and he found himself studying her profile again. The rising sun had touched her loose hair to gold, and there was something almost ethereal about her silhouetted against the vast expanse of sky and sea. So young, so alive with curiosity and wonder...
He pushed the thought aside, irritated by his own distraction. This was meant to be about the stone circles, about letting her see just enough of the project to satisfy her curiosity without revealing its true nature. Instead, he'd led her to the cliffs simply to see her smile.
"We should return," he said abruptly. "There's more to see at the circles."
But as they turned back toward the path, he caught one last glimpse of her expression – that pure, unguarded joy – and found himself already planning future visits to the coast, each one justified with increasingly hollow pretenses about magical theory.
The walk back was quieter, both lost in their own thoughts. The stone circle emerged from the morning mist like ancient sentinels, the wizards still working methodically between them. Alice noticed now how they seemed to be mapping something – tracing invisible lines between the stones with their wands, recording measurements in floating scrolls.
"My Lord," one of them called out, hurrying over. "We've found something rather interesting in the resonance patterns."
Voldemort's attention sharpened, that brief moment of vulnerability by the sea falling away like a discarded cloak. "Show me."
Alice watched as they discussed complex magical theories, her mind trying to connect what she'd read in Blackthorn's texts to what she was seeing. The way the stones seemed to pulse in sequence, how the magical energy flowed between them like a circuit...
"You see these patterns?" Voldemort turned to her suddenly, including her in the discussion. "How they mirror the theories you've been studying?"
She nodded, stepping closer to examine the floating diagrams. "The stones act as anchor points, channeling and amplifying the natural magic in the ley lines." She paused, thinking. "Like a network of... conductors."
"Very good." His approval was evident, though something darker flickered behind his eyes. "And what makes an ideal conductor, according to your reading?"
"Something neutral," she replied carefully. "Without its own magical properties to interfere with the flow of power."
"Precisely." He turned back to the stones, his voice taking on that teaching tone she knew so well. "Pure vessels, waiting to be awakened."
There was something in the way he said it – something that should have worried her, perhaps. But she was too caught up in finally seeing magical theory in practice, in the way the ancient stones hummed with potential. The ocean, with its endless waves like scales on a fish, crashing towards her, further than she could see or imagine, drowning her thoughts out as if she was in the very waters.
"We should return," he said finally. "You've seen enough for one day."
As they prepared to apparate back to the palace, Alice caught him watching her again with that strange, considering look. But before she could decipher it, the world twisted around them, and they were gone.