HP: A Magical Journey

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Voldemort stood on the town hall's roof alone and gazed at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts defense ward obstructed his vision from seeing Hogwarts in all its glory, but despite that, he could see it clearly as if there was no ward between them. After all, the castle was the place he considered his home. And it was going to be his symbol of power, his throne, when he took over the country and everything else after that.

His eyes narrowed a fraction as a white scar slowly burned like the magnesium flame on the yellow ward. He was close to breaking the outer ward; the moment it was down, he and his Death Eaters would gain access to Hogwarts. He was sure there would be more defenses— old bat Dumbledore won't just put a single layer— but as long as he gained entry, everything could be taken care of much more smoothly.

He looked down on the roof he was standing on and thought about the people inside. If he was given what he was promised, they would live to see the next day— but if he got through the Hogwarts ward first, they would be on their way to eternal sleep.

'Pitful things, going to die tonight,' he had supreme confidence in his skill after all.

Voldemort's face crinkled in displeasure when a foreign object entered his perception. He turned his eyes to look at the tiny puppet spider that crawled atop the roof from the edge. Ever since the last one had jumped off his shoulder, none of these pesky things had approached him— this could only mean that the Invisible Vigilante had been faster.

Then as he expected, the distorted voice sounded in his eyes, "I have what you need; let the women and children go."

"That wasn't the deal, Vigilante. You were the one who set the conditions of our exchange— half of the hostages before you deliver Harry Potter and the rest after I have him. I upheld my part of the deal and released half, now give me Harry Potter, and I shall reciprocate in equal."

"I don't trust that you'll continue to withhold the deal. I need you to release the rest of the hostages for me to deliver Harry Potter to you."

"I don't trust you too. How do I know that you have Harry Potter? I, without a shred of doubt in my mind, believe you don't have the boy with you. I should just kill every person in my custody right this moment. It would take a word from me to make it happen."

"I have proof that I have Harry Potter with me."

"I'm sure it's something that can be replicated," Voldemort moved towards the puppet spider. "Discussions are over; now it's time for you to know the consequences of crossing me."

He was about to crush the spider under his feet when he heard the Invisible Vigilante voice again, "Three Broomsticks." Voldemort was expecting more, but nothing else came through. Then the spider burst into a small firecracker.

"Three Broomsticks, it is. . ."

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The entrance to Three Broomsticks burst open with the heavy wooden gate flying into the inn. Before the smoke could even settle, Death Eaters invaded in, barging in with their wands pointed and ready to cast. They ran through the inn and cleared every corner to check for any occupants.

"It's clear, my Lord," said one of the Death Eaters.

Voldemort entered the building and looked around the pub part of the inn that he hadn't visited since the time Dumbledore had refused him the position of Defense Against Dark Arts Professor. It had changed a lot since then.

"A waste of time; I should've killed the hostages already," he said. Voldemort turned away and was about to leave when one of his Death Eaters called for him.

"My Lord, there's something here."

In between an inner part of the seating section, all the tables and chairs had been pushed to the side, creating a wide empty circle. In the middle of that circle floated a wand shimmering in an ethereal red and gold color.

Voldemort could tell that the glow was purely for aesthetic reasons, but it seemed to be working as the moment he laid his eyes on the wand, he could tell what it actually was. He stepped into the circle and wrapped his fingers around the wand's length.

!~Woom~!

Voldemort closed his eyes. It wasn't any different from any other wand he had held, excluding his own. He didn't even have its allegiance, but despite that, he could instantly feel the connection between him and the wand. The Phoenix feather inside the wand felt so familiar that for a second, even his magic thought that the wand was his. But it wasn't his wand. Oh no, it was not.

"Release the hostages," the distorted voice whispered in his ear.

Voldemort stared at the wand in his hand. There was no way to replicate this feeling. Even if the Phoenix gave more feathers now, they wouldn't be the same.

"Augustus," he called.

"Yes, my Lord," responded one of his most cunning, trusted, and without a doubt most skilled retainers.

"Release the rest of the hostages."

"My Lord? I think we shouldn't give away our—"

"Release the hostages, Augustus. I won't repeat myself."

". . . If that's what you wish." Rookwood exited Three Broomsticks to complete Voldemort's order.

Voldemort clenched his fist around the wand until it snapped into half. He opened his hand and let the pieces fall, but they incinerated into ash mid-fall, and the ashes flew into the air before any could reach the floor.

That took care of one problem. With its twin gone, his wand won't betray him now.

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On a rooftop somewhere in the country, a large group of Aurors stood on the roof of a large warehouse.

"He wasn't lying," Kingsley said, looking to the small storeroom in the room. "There's a Labyrinth exit, alright." The door was bright red and was opened. Looking through it, they could see the inside of a house.

Robards pursed his lips and frowned deeply. They now had a way into Hogsmeade through which they could send their forces in, directly bypassing the ward cast by the Dark Lord— but this great boon was provided by a criminal who had used Unforgivables and had made Aurors kill innocent people and had himself killed a child in front of an Auror.

On the one hand, Robards thought this was just Invisible Vigilante could be using them for his own means. He had been a vigorous opposer of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord and might be using the Aurors to trim the number of Death Eaters down without making a move himself. But if he flipped the coin, a part of his mind said that maybe the man who had killed at the resort and someone— most probably Death Eaters— was trying to frame him. But without proof, he didn't know what to think. And with the current situation, he had no time to ponder about it.

"Ready the teams," said Robards. "We will be going inside. We need to get the remaining hostages out safely and take down the Death Eaters." He turned to one of the communication members on the roof, "Ask Senior Auror Potter to tell Dumbledore to enter Hogsmeade— we need his help to handle the Dark Lord. God, I hope he kills that psychotic maniac."

"The teams are ready; we just need to relay the assignment to them and let them plan for it," said Kingsley. "We are ready to deploy after that."

"Wait for Dumbledore to respond. We will coordinate the infiltration with him."

"Understood."

"I'm returning to Whitehall; you're in charge, Kingsley—"

There was a loud pop on the rooftop immediately followed by a loud voice. "Sir, the rest of the hostages have been released!" yelled the Junior Auror that had just arrived.

"What, again?!"

According to the report, all of the hostages in Hogsmeade had been released. Everyone was accounted for, and except the three people who had been killed and hanged, everyone else was present and out of danger. No one else had been harmed inside, and they hadn't been cursed by some hidden dark spell. The Unspeakables were observing the hostages in case the Aurors had missed something laid outside their knowledge.

"What should we do now, sir?" asked Kingsley.

"Nothing changes," Robards replied. "We still coordinate with Dumbledore— but now, there's no need for it to be a covet operation. We go in strong and wipe them out as swiftly as possible."

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Harry snapped his eyes open and found himself staring at the sky, peeking through the canopy of the trees around him. He sat straight up and groaned, for his chest hurt with a dull ache. 'Why did he hit me so hurt,' Harry thought as he rubbed the part of his chest where he had been struck with the stunning spells.

He looked around and wondered where he was. The sun was about to set, and the sky had already taken over the blue tint of the evening. He got up and dusted off his clothes. Just standing there felt uncomfortable; everything was quiet, too quiet— there was no wind, so the ambiance was missing the rustle of leaves. Even him shifting on his feet only produced a dull sound.

Where was Quinn? He tried to locate his abductor, but the black-clad Vigilante was nowhere to be seen. Why would he leave him here? Such thoughts passed through his mind. Then— Maybe I can go. . . a hopeful thought popped in part of his mind, which then became increasingly louder and sounded plausible and possible.

But then he heard a rustle, and he abruptly turned with his heart leaping in his throat. The rustle was from a bush being pushed aside, and one look dried the hope and optimism in the Well of his heart.

"Harry Potter. . ." Voldemort entered the clearing, dressed in the dark robes that seemed to be his only clothes as he had been wearing the same when they had met at the graveyard. He had his hands folded over his wand in front of him. "You're here. . . I thought I wouldn't find you here. . . but here you are. . . finally," he said in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames.

Voldemort stepped forward, and Harry took two steps back. His nerves jumped when he heard more and more rustling. Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: Their wands flared, and Harry saw Bellatrix and Dolohov peering into him with grins on their faces. More followed after them, and soon, he was surrounded by masked and hooded Death Eaters forming a loose perimeter around the clearing.

Every eye was fixed upon him. Nobody spoke. Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside.

"It seems. . . I wasn't mistaken," Voldemort stepped forward.

At that moment, he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them. And the lack of his wand near his chest made his stomach feel queasy.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting.

Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear—

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

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Quinn West - Invisible Vigilante - Deal is done.

Harry Potter - Boy-Who-Lived - Green seeing green.

Voldemort - Dark Lord - It's done.

FictionOnlyReader - Author - Health problems really ruin plans. Be healthy everyone, do take care of your health.

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The link is in the synopsis!