Necessary
-December 4, 1991-
Voldemort had just fallen asleep, exhausted from spending the day with his hyperactive toddler who didn’t know when to quit, and Death, who was a total enabler and was no help whatsoever at getting the child to calm down enough to go to bed. Once Little One had finally been tucked in and sent off to sleep, Death had followed Voldemort to his bedroom before they collapsed into bed, asleep in mere seconds.
Voldemort had never been able to sleep easily before, but somehow Death made it easy for Voldemort to fall asleep in a matter of minutes instead of hours. It was so comfortable and warm in the bed, Death’s arm wrapped around his waist in a protective gesture, and Voldemort had sunk into the peaceful oblivion almost instantly.
Only for his alarm to go off an hour later, startling Voldemort and Death so badly, the pair fell out of the bed. Voldemort groaned, the blaring alarm causing his ears to ring. Voldemort cursed quietly in parseltongue before he silenced the alarm, standing to his feet with the assistance of Death.
“What’s going on?” Death asked, looking at Voldemort in confusion. “Did you forget something in the oven?”
“No,” Voldemort said, summoning his robes wandlessly. “That’s the alarm for the New Ministry. Lucius is calling me, so something must have happened.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Death said, his face screwed up in a mixture of emotions that Voldemort didn’t have the time to decipher. “You should just ignore it. Come back to bed.”
The offer was tempting, especially when Death wrapped his arms around Voldemort’s waist and began to pepper light kisses up the path of his neck, but Voldemort resisted. “I can’t,” he said mournfully, twisting out of the being’s grip. “It might be something important. It’s my duty to check it out.”
“It’s your duty to check it out at one o’clock in the morning?” Death asked, raising an eyebrow.
Was it really that early? A quick tempus charm proved that it was, in fact, one AM. With a scowl, Voldemort got dressed, quickly getting himself ready for whatever Lucius needed from him. “It better be world-ending important,” Voldemort muttered to himself as he fixed his bed-hair. “Or he’ll find out just how much I am not a morning person.”
Just as Voldemort moved to open the door, Death caught his elbow, tugging him back into his chest. “Stay.” he purred into his ear. Voldemort caught the being’s wandering hands with a tight grip, stepping out of his hold.
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Voldemort drawled. “I really must go. I’ll be back soon, but the longer you hold me up, the longer it’ll take to settle whatever mess Lucius has gotten himself into.”
Death is frowning at him now, and Voldemort eyes the pouting being with confusion. “Don’t go.”
“What’s the matter?” Voldemort asks, crossing his arms. “You’re not usually so clingy. What’s going on?”
Death just looked away from him, refusing to meet his gaze. “Stay.”
“Why?” Voldemort asked again, only to huff when Death gave no response. “Look, I have to go. We can talk about whatever this---” Voldemort gestured to Death’s tense form. “---is when I get back. Okay?”
Death said nothing as Voldemort stood there, waiting for a response. Finally, he dipped his head down in assent, and Voldemort nodded back at him. With one final backward glance at the confusing entity, Voldemort grabbed the door handle and left the bedroom.
As the door was closing he could Death whisper softly, “Please be careful.” before the door clicked shut behind him. Voldemort frowned in confusion, Death’s strange behavior at the forefront of his mind as he walked briskly to the apparition zone.
What was up with him? Death, while strange and clingy, had never acted like this before. Voldemort just sighed, shaking the thought out of his mind. He would worry about Death’s weird behavior when he returned, but right now he needed to focus on whatever caused Lucius to summon him at one o’clock in the morning.
When he apparated to the New Ministry, he was greeted with pure chaos.
People were screaming and yelling and running around as smoke and fire poured out of the charred remains of the New Ministry building. Voldemort was frozen in place for a second before he moved, whipping out his wand and throwing charm after charm to control the fire.
Other wizards arrived shortly after him, taking over the fire. When the fire had died down enough for Voldemort to walk up to it, he stepped forward into the rubble, his face set into a deep scowl. All around him, he could see the people eye him warily, unsure of what was going on.
“What happened here?” he said carefully, his words echoing across the now silent square. The only noise was from the crackling embers and his angry breathing, his eyes trailing over the destroyed remains of the New Ministry building. “WHAT HAPPENED HERE?” he snarled, the yell causing several people to flinch.
“W-We don’t know, My Lord,” someone dared. “There was no warning…”
“Where is the Minister?” Voldemort asked, looking around for Lucius. Voldemort had assumed it was Lucius who set off the alarm, but his alarm could also be triggered on its own if the event was dire enough. Dire like the entire New Ministry building going up in flames.
“He was inside when it went off, My Lord.” another person answered. “We’re still pulling the injured out of the rubble.”
“What’s happened?” a familiar voice asked from beside him. Voldemort turned ever so slightly to the left to see Death standing behind him, eyes wide as they looked around the destruction.
“Find me the Minister!” Voldemort demanded, watching as the bystanders began combing through the rubble. Voldemort looked at Death and raised an eyebrow, silently asking the being if Lucius had died in the explosion.
“Lucius Malfoy’s soul has not entered my domain,” Death said, shaking his head. “He is still alive.”
“Did you know about this?” Voldemort asked under his breath, using his wand to help lift the larger pieces of rubble. “Was this why you were acting so weird?”
“I had no knowledge of this,” Death said, shaking his head. “I… I had a conversation with my Sister that set me on edge. I didn’t want to leave you alone…”
“What did you talk about?” Voldemort asked, looking at the being with confusion. What could set Death on edge? “You didn’t want to leave me alone? Is it about me? Is something going to happen?”
Death opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by shouting. “I found the Minister!” someone cried, causing Voldemort to look over, putting a pin in the previous conversation with Death. Voldemort walked over to where Lucius had been found, his robes billowing in his stride.
Lucius lay underneath a large piece of rubble, dirt and cuts covered his body, and a small trail of blood lined his forehead and cheek. He was unconscious but didn’t seem to hurt, only small superficial wounds. Voldemort cast a quick rennervate and watched as Lucius snapped his eyes open and shot up.
“Lucius,” Voldemort hissed, gripping the man by the shoulder. “What happened here?”
Lucius’ eyes were wide as he looked around, taking in the destruction with horror-filled eyes. “I-I don’t know, My Lord,” he said. “The last thing I remember…”
Voldemort snarled and met Lucius’ confused gaze, forcing his way deep into the man’s mind. Lucius flinched under Voldemort’s attack but did not struggle. Voldemort dug through Lucius’ memories, searching for what had caused the attack, only to be met with an empty space where a memory should be.
Damn.
Voldemort drew out Lucius’ mind, a snarl etched into his face. “You’ve been obliviated.” he hissed, dropping his hold on Lucius’ shoulder and stepped back. “You must have known something about what happened, but it's gone now.”
As much as Voldemort wanted to know what had happened, to try and undo the obliviate on Lucius’ mind could drive him insane. Voldemort still had use for Lucius, and it would be a waste to turn the man into a vegetable trying to find out what happened.
“Why would someone erase the knowledge of what happened?” Death asked, floating a few inches off the ground next to Voldemort. “Wouldn’t they want you to know they attacked?”
“If this was a political attack, sure,” Voldemort conceded, ignoring Lucius’s confused look as he talked to air. Lucius had a concussion, so Voldemort wasn’t too concerned about looking crazy in front of him. “But this might have been a distraction.”
“It’s a pretty big distraction,” Death replied. “Not very subtle either.”
“Perhaps whoever set this off took valuable information,” Voldemort said, crossing his arms behind his back as he paced. “The bomb must have destroyed whatever evidence they left behind in the building.”
“But why obliviate Lucius?” Death asked. “Do you think he saw whoever did it? Tried to stop it?”
“No, if this was an act of espionage, they wouldn’t have left Lucius alive,” Voldemort said, shaking his head. “They would’ve killed him, not obliviated him. No loose ends.”
“A spy with morals?”
Voldemort froze. He spun around to face Death, his hands clenched tightly around his forearms. “What did you say?” he demanded, stepping closer to the floating being.
Death frowned. “A spy with morals. Maybe they didn’t want to kill unless they had to.”
“Anyone could’ve died in that explosion,” Voldemort whispered, his eyes flitting around the destruction. “People got hurt. Whoever set off that bomb must have known that. So why didn’t they kill Lucius?”
“The bomb was indirect,” Death argued. “To kill Lucius, they would’ve had to do it themselves. They would have seen it happen. It’s more personal. A bomb going off isn’t as personal. Easier to justify.”
“Someone needed information badly enough to destroy an entire building and obliviate the Minister,” Voldemort said quietly, his eyes widening in realization. “Someone with twisted morals who wouldn’t want to get their own hands dirty. Someone who has a grudge against me…”
“You think you know who did this?” Death asked, looking back at him.
“No, I know who did this,” Voldemort snarled. “This has Dumbledore and his damned, ‘Greater good’ written all over it!”
“What could Dumbledore possibly need from the New Ministry?”
Voldemort let his gaze travel back to Lucius’ slumped form. “Information,” he hissed. “Something he could use against me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know! My strengths! My ranks! My allies! My weaknesses---”
Voldemort froze, could feel his entire body turn to ice. Beside him, Death sucked in a sharp breath, whirling around to look at him with horror. For a moment everything was frozen still, and then Voldemort’s heart set off racing in his chest.
“Little One!” he hissed. “He’s already used him against me before! Merlin, he wouldn’t be so stupid, would he? Of course, he would!”
“Little One is safe, though,” Death argued. “He’s still in the Castle. Dumbledore doesn’t know how to get through the wards!”
“No,” Voldemort said, his eyes wide. “But Lucius does.”
“No---”
Voldemort didn’t stick around long enough to hear whatever Death was saying. He apparated instantly, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Dumbledore knew that Little One was his one and only weakness! He knew that without him by his side, Voldemort could lose himself.
Voldemort thought that he’d learned his lesson last time, but if Dumbledore was the one to blow up the New Ministry, then he must have taken important information---breaking wards, for instance---out of Lucius’ mind. He knew that Voldemort would have to leave the castle if the New Ministry building exploded, leaving Little One unguarded.
Voldemort landed in front of the castle, his apparition zone blocked by something. Voldemort felt like the air in his lungs had been torn out when he saw half of his castle on fire. He could feel the fear and grief and seething rage build up inside of him before his magic exploded outward. With a scream, his magic vanished the fire instantly.
Voldemort apparated into Little One’s bedroom directly, his heart dropping when he felt no wards around the room. He landed and fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he took in the sight before him.
Little One’s beautiful fairy garden room was trashed. There were scorch marks all around the room, showing where there had been a fire. Charred remains of flowers and trees littered the ground, and Voldemort can’t see Little One.
He can’t see---
“Little One,” he calls, his voice breaking. “Where are you, baby? Come to Papa, please.”
There is no answer, and it’s so eerily similar to the first time Little One was taken away from him, that it steals his breath. Suddenly, Voldemort can’t breathe anymore. He gasps for air, his hand coming up to clutch at his neck, but there is no air to breathe in. His lungs refuse to function properly, and suddenly Voldemort’s dying---
He’s dying, dying, dying---
“You’re not dying,” Death says, kneeling next to him. Voldemort shudders out a sob and gasps for air. “Breathe. You’re not dying. You need to breathe.”
Voldemort claws at his throat, willing himself to breathe as he sucks in a harsh gasp, and his eyes fill with tears when he feels his lungs inflate. Voldemort heaves out another sob and coughs as air fills his lungs once more. Death pulls him into a tight embrace, and Voldemort clutches the front of Death’s shirt as he sobs.
Voldemort isn’t sure how long he sits there crying before he regains his composure, but it's long enough for his legs to go numb and his feet to prickle from the pins and needles. Finally, Voldemort pulls away from Death’s tight embrace to look around the destruction.
He feels hollow, empty like there’s nothing of him left. He’s reminded once again of Death’s strange behavior from earlier, remembers the way the being begged him not to go, but refused to explain. His chest clenched as he sucked in another sharp breath.
“Did you know?” he asks, his voice scratchy and hoarse.
“What?”
Voldemort whirls around to face him, digging his pointed finger into Death’s chest. “Did. You. Know?” he demands.
“I… I didn’t know this would happen, I---”
“But you knew something was going to happen, right?” Voldemort snarls. Death opens his mouth but Voldemort cuts him off, refusing to hear his false platitudes. “No! My son is gone---” his voice cracked but Voldemort soldiered on. “---and you’ve been acting weird all night! So now you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on or you’re going to leave! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
“I couldn’t interfere.” Death whispered, his head hung low as his eyes filled with guilt and regret. “My Sister made a plan. I had no choice.”
“Where is my baby?” Voldemort demanded.
“I’m so sorry.”
“WHERE IS MY SON?!” Voldemort screamed. “WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE? TELL ME---”
“I don’t know,” Death cried, a tear escaping his eye and trailing down his cheek. “I don’t know where he is. I’m so sorry.”
Voldemort was frozen, his mouth wide open but no words were coming out. His hands were trembling and his eyes were watering from the smoke. He wanted to curse something, hurt something, kill something. He wanted his son back! He wanted---
He could hear a weak quack from the right, and suddenly Voldemort was on his feet. He ran over to a half-charred bush and knelt down to see Larry huddled up under the leaves. His fingers shook as he gently pet the soft duckling, his eyes filling with tears.
Putting their dispute on a mental truce, Voldemort pulled the duckling out of the bush, his yellow fuzz covered in ash and dirt. The duckling let out another weak quack before nuzzling into Voldemort’s thumb, and his face hardened with determination.
He turned back to face Death, who was still kneeling on the ground and snarled, “I’m going to go get my son back. Come find me if you want to help.”
And with that, he turned and marched out of the charred remains of his son’s bedroom, placing Larry on his bed so he could rest. Little One would be so happy to see Larry once Voldemort got him back.
Grimmauld Place
Two Hours Earlier
Albus was silent as everyone yelled, their confusion and fear evident in their eyes as they shouted and pounded against the table. Their voices overlapped each other, and Albus simply sat still, watching them quietly. They had all been called from their beds for an emergency meeting, and it was clear that they didn’t know what was happening.
Finally, Molly cried out, “SILENCE!” the table fell quiet as they all turned to look at the redhead. “Now then, Albus, please explain what’s happening. I just heard the New Ministry building exploded and the next thing I know you’re calling an emergency meeting.”
“Yeah,” Sirius nodded. “Did something happen?”
“Obviously something did, or we wouldn’t be here right now!” Alastor snapped, ignoring the dirty look Sirius sent him in response.
“Please be calm, everyone,” Albus said, raising his hands. “There is no need to argue. In fact, we should all celebrate!”
“Celebrate?” Remus asked, his face drawn up with confusion. “Celebrate what? Albus, what’s going on?”
“Well, I wanted to tell everyone all at once, but I suppose Severus was caught up with something,” Albus said, noting Severus’ absence with disapproval. “No matter. I’ll share the good news with him later.”
“What good news?” Sirius demanded. “What’s going on?”
“The Dark Lord will soon be defeated.” Albus said with a smile. He expected shouts of joy and excitement, but he was met with silence and confused glances.
“What are you talking about?” Molly asked carefully.
“I’ve successfully infiltrated the Dark Lord’s castle,” Albus said, smiling at their surprised faces. “I was able to take back Harry Potter and place him somewhere safe. Without him, the Dark Lord will be distracted enough for us to duel. It won’t be long now.”
Sirius slammed his fists onto the table as he stood, leveling a deep glare in Albus’ direction. “What did you say?”
“Now, I know you’re worried about James’ and Lily’s boy, Sirius,” Albus said. “But you don’t need to be. He’s perfectly safe.”
“He’s my godson! Where is he?!” Sirius demanded. “What did you do to him?”
Albus sighed. “It was for the Greater Good---”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Sirius screamed, whipping out his wand to point at Albus threateningly.
“I did what was necessary to win this war,” Albus said gravely. “You should be grateful. Thanks to me, Harry Potter is no longer in the hands of that monster.”
Sirius lunged at him. “YOU---” he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, however, as Albus quickly fired a stunner at him. Sirius fell to the ground, unconscious, while the rest of the Order stared at him with horror.
“Albus, what have you done?!” Molly cried. “What’s gotten into you---”
“I apologize, Molly,” Albus said softly, standing up and taking out his wand. “But I really must be going now. I appreciate all your help.”
Before anyone could say anything, Albus struck them with a wide-spread stupefy, rendering them all unconscious. He sent one last look at his fallen comrades before he sighed. “It’s for the Greater Good.”
He apparated away, leaving the unconscious Order members behind.