Chapter 62
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
Albus stared at his old student and felt nothing but disappointment. In the boy.
But more so in himself, for what stood in front of him—a soul infesting, a young and innocent body like a parasite. Something that was an affront to everything natural and holy about magic, and all of it was because of his faults.
"You have become old, Professor," Tom whispered as he settled down into the seat opposite him, as he had years ago when he had come here seeking the job of the DADA professor.
"I have," he answered, for he had become old.
"And you have become pitiful," he whispered, for that was what he felt for Tom. Pity.
For he did not remember him as the fearsome and dangerous Dark Lord, but as the young boy he had found in that little Orphanage—one who had been seeking a place to live in, a place to belong to.
"Pitiful," he scoffed, raging at his words.
"You call me pitiful, while I sit here alive, having conquered death itself," and that was his mistake, for death was not an enemy. It was a friend, and no matter how much one may try, it was impossible to escape this inevitability.
"I see no triumph," he whispered, sighing at him, hoping that he would see reason, but he wouldn't.
"I see only a parasite, clinging to life as an abomination," and Tom's anger was palpable, and his magic began to react to his emotions as clouds of darkness began to come off of him.
"Where you see an abomination, I see victory. I see triumph," No, he did not, for he could sense the weakness and doubt in his word.
"Then why do you sit here? Why have you come here?" he asked, as Tom smirked.
"I just wanted to see you before I went into battle against your new champion," and he laughed as Albus sat there, watching in pity as his instincts screamed at him to reach for his wand.
"Truly, you haven't changed at all, still relying on your henchmen to do your dirty work while you sit there and reap all the fame and the benefits," and he laughed, as guilt gripped his heart, for though partly, Tom's words had a speck of truth in them.
"Before it was the Potters, and that little group of his, and now you have fallen so low as to rely on a literal child," and Tom laughed, as Albus sighed.
"If so, then I am no different than you," Albus taunted, and the laughter stopped.
"After all, you rely on henchmen to do your dirty work as well, don't you?" It had taken him quite a few days to figure it out, but Albus finally knew of the man who had been sabotaging the Tri-Wizard tournament.
"Still to think that you would be able to get the proud Igor Karkaroff to bend to your will once more," and if Tom was affected by the news, he did not show it.
"He is being taken away as we speak," he continued, for while he may have left the fate of Harry and Tom in the hands of another, but as Headmaster, it fell to him to care for his students.
"You see, they discovered quite a few irregularities in his financial handling of the Drumstrang's accounts," and Tom scoffed, seemingly unbothered by his acolyte's fate.
"I couldn't care less about that traitor," and that was the tragedy of Tom, for he cared neither for his enemies nor for his friends.
"He has served his purpose, and soon enough, all of my faithful servants will be back with me," and Albus shook his head.
"No, such a day will never come," and Tom laughed.
"Why? Do you really think that boy could defeat me?" and he did believe that. He believed that with all his heart, as those red eyes narrowed.
"Or do you plan on stepping into the ring yourself?" he challenged, and he would not need to.
"The Great Albus Dumbledore versus The Chosen One," he whispered, and though he had no plans of doing that, he would never tell that to him.
"If I feel like I have to, I just might," and those eyes narrowed, as silence lingered in the air.
"I don't think it will be wise of you to change the terms of our bout, Professor," and with that, the room shifted in an instant, as wands were drawn and aimed in the blink of an eye, as the entire room began to shake.
"I may have grown old," Albus admitted, as he aimed his wand at Tom.
"But I can assure you, I have not grown any weaker," and Tom knew that in his current state, he was no match for him, especially in these Halls.
"You may be able to defeat me," and he moved his wand, and aimed it squarely at his temple, as Albus's teeth.
"But if you dare enter the field against me that day, then I am afraid you will be responsible for not one but two deaths," and this was one of the reasons why he had avoided a direct confrontation with Tom to this day.
There was one thing that Tom feared more than anything else—death, and yet now he threatened him with that very thing.
"You won't kill yourself," Albus called out his bluff, and he was almost certain of that fact.
But only almost.
And Tom knew that.
"Maybe I will, Maybe I won't," he answered back, as Dumbledore lowered his wand slowly, for if it was only Tom facing him, he may be able to find it in his heart to cast a spell.
But it was not just Tom. It was Harry as well, and while Tom deserved to die, Harry was innocent, and Albus Dumbledore did not have the heart to take the life of an innocent young boy.
"But would you really like to test me on that, Professor..."
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TRACEY DAVIS
"He will never accept this," Tracey told her friend, as she stared at the abhorrent betrothal agreement that Daphne had gotten drawn up in guilt and remorse.
Calling it a betrothal agreement was a stretch. No, it was more like a slavery contract, and though in the Pure Blood World such things were still somewhat common, things were beginning to change, and Cassius was the herald of that change.
The Black Family held a lot of sway and influence over the Pure Blood society, and for that family to have a Lord such as Cassius, who openly resisted the Pure Blood dogma, empowered others to do the same.
So, his accepting this was nearly impossible.
"Then what am I supposed to offer him?" Daphne whispered in worry and desperation, and she pitied her friend for how the times had sown such doubt in her heart.
But Daphne was not used to having others do her favors, and Cassius was doing her the greatest favor she could imagine by saving her sister's life.
"Not this," Tracey said, as she put the folder to the side, as they sat in the dorms, with only a day left in the final bout.
"The cure for Astoria, even with a most conservative estimate, it would cost almost the entire fortune of my family, yet I cannot offer him that. At least not all of it," and the agreement contained quite a pretty penny, which she estimated to be half of Greengrass's fortune, and that made her wonder just what she had done to get her father to agree to such a thing.
"I cannot accept such a massive gift for nothing," and while she was right, but Cassius had little need of money.
He was Lord Black and had enough Gold and treasures in his vaults to last lifetimes.
"You and I both know that Cassius has no need of money," or servitude for that matter.
"He has more money than both of our Houses combined, and if he ever wanted more, it would not take him long to earn it," and so Daphne grabbed her head in turmoil, as she found herself at a loss.
"Then what do you give to someone who has everything?" But he did not have everything.
"Family," she whispered as Daphne looked up at her
"Loyalty, trust," she numbered the few things that he never had.
"The agreement..." and Tracey's temper rose at those words.
"Bollocks to that garbage!" she thundered, stopping her from making the biggest mistake of her life.
"Cassius has no need of such a thing. No, he trusts you already. Trusts you more than you trust yourself, so do not give him that agreement, do not offer him terms and provisions, but give him your word," and that was what had attracted him to Hermione, but in the end, the brown-haired girl had betrayed him.
One could blame the circumstances, could blame Cassius's father or Hermione's family, but that did not change the fact that she had betrayed him, and Cassius was pained much by it.
"Give him your word that you will stand by him come heaven or hell. Tell him that you wish to spend your entire life with him, that you shall be his as he shall be yours," for he was alone now.
Draco and his mother both refused to talk to him, as Draco blamed him for their father's incarceration, and though Tracey knew that Narcissa Black did indeed love her son, the woman had to choose between a young and erratic Draco and a stable and steadfast Cassius.
In the end, she had to choose between the two sons. And she had chosen Draco, not because she loved him more, but because he needed her more.
Cassius understood that. He did, and had even mentioned how she had made the right choice, but even that smile had been unable to hide the pain in his words.
"I won't betray him, Tracey. Never," Daphne spoke strongly, and she did not doubt that. For if there was anyone else who could match Cassius in his stubbornness and loyalty, it was her.
"I know, but Cassius does not," and he had been betrayed by the people around him not once or twice but half a dozen times now.
"His father and brother loathe him, while his own mother first chose his father, then his twin over him," she reminded Daphne, whose lips thinned at the mention of Cassius's family.
"He may not mention it, but that would scar anyone," yet he persisted on, with not a single tear shed.
"He may not speak it, but he needs someone. He wants someone he can trust, he can rely on, he can share his worries with, someone he can share his happiness with," and while they were friends, what he sought was someone who went beyond that.
"He wants a partner for life," and she held her face as she offered her the most sage advice she could.
"Offer him that," she said, and Daphne nodded, as a tear slipped down her face.
"Thank you," Daphne whispered, as Tracey shrugged.
"Don't mention it," but after a second of thought.
"On second thought, you can mention it to Cassius a few years later when both of you are getting married," she whispered as Daphne narrowed.
"Tell him how I single-handedly saved your marriage, and that all I seek in compensation for that is a wardrobe designed by Versace," and she made a face as Daphne rolled her eyes.
"You and your obsession with clothes," and Tracey gasped.
"Says the girl cannot help but stare at that dress all night," she whispered, pointing towards the Black dress hanging in the wardrobe, as Daphne's eyes shifted.
"I do not stare it for its designer," but she should.
"I know.
"You stare at it for the person who gave it to you...."
.
.
.
.
And as the two girls closed their eyes, magic clashed against magic in another corner of the school as it never had in the Halls of Hogwarts as Albus Dumbledore fought against Cassius for one last time before his final bout, and the aged wizard's wand moved like a blur as he was pushed to the limits by the young wizard in front of him who used magics and tricks that even he had never witnessed.
The clash lasted for an hour, leaving them both exhausted until their wands flew into the air at the same time, as the duel ended in a draw.
And the blue-eyed Headmaster raised a brow, as the woods clacked on the ground.
"So, are you ready?" he asked, and the young wizard was on the ground, breathing heavily as he nodded.
"Yes, I believe I am...."
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