The Truth Behind the Veil ✔️

Capture the Flag

The Dark Lord was afraid. Bellatrix followed him as he paced the length of Grimmauld place on a warm spring evening in nineteen eighty one.

Dumbledore had broken into the mansion not only three months ago and stolen the last link to his immortality. He wanted the old man dead immediately.

Snape was watching as Bella tailed their Master like an attention-seeking puppy and scoffed. This was ridiculous.

Voldemort's head swiveled over to the greasy-haired man. "Something funny, Severus?"

"No, my Lord," Snape drawled boredly.

The war seemed to be on pause. The Dark Lord hadn't done any killing since January, and the Death-Eaters were following his example. The horcruxes had continued to be destroyed even after thoroughly killing Regulus Black. Someone else was behind this.

"Then I suggested you keep your scoffing to yourself," the Dark Lord snapped as his pacing continued.

"Is there anything we can do, My Lord?" asked Lucius Malfoy reverently.

The now mortal man shook his head. "I need to find out who is behind this," he seethed. "Who is destroying my horcruxes?"

"Wasn't it Black?" Amycus wondered aloud.

"It was, but he is dead and my horcruxes have still been destroyed since, Amycus."

The group exchanged glances but no one uttered another word. When the Dark Lord was in a mood such as this any wrong movement would result in one less member of the Death-Eaters. They all valued their lives far too much to risk such a thing.

The dark wood creaked under the mortal's weight. Mortal, what a terrible word. How awful it was to be merely human like the rest of them. Tom Riddle wasn't meant to be a mortal. Tom Riddle was a power hungry beast meant to take over the world, not to be outsmarted by a child. All the years of becoming I Am Lord Voldemort only to turn back into Tom Marvolo Riddle in the span of a few short months.

His soul was too weak to risk making another horcrux. Finding the Philosopher's stone could be the key to immortality, or perhaps the Deathly Hallows. But the truth was, he wanted Dumbledore dead first and then whoever was behind his downfall. The Hallows and the stone could wait.

"I want Albus Dumbledore dead," he spoke, voice slithering through the room.

Severus Snape had recently been hired to be the new Potions Professor for the following school year. He knew the school like the back of his hand. He knew Dumbledore's schedule. He knew he wanted back into the Dark Lord's good books. So, he stood, drawing every eye to his slim, brooding figure.

"I can kill him, My Lord."

The Dark Lord nodded, lips stretching into what might have once been a smile. "Good, Severus. Bring me back his wand once the task is done."

Dumbledore faced death easily. The curses he had faced from the horcruxes were destined to kill him sooner or later. Severus had chosen to make it sooner it seemed.

Severus entered his study with job inquiries, wondering about holiday time and lesson plans. He struck quickly.

"Thank you, I was wondering if I could have October fourth off as it is my Mother's birthday and I want to—Avada Kederva!"

One would simply think Albus Dumbledore had just fallen asleep at his desk. He was elderly, nearly one hundred now, it wasn't a preposterous assumption to make.

Snape stuffed the pangs of guilt away with all the rest and fled. Someone else would happen across the man, and Severus did not intend to be nearby when they did.