Roachmort cleaned his antennae one last time as he finished carving the ritual circle. It had taken months to find and modify a ritual that would fit his needs. As much as his new insect form was comfortable, he sadly could not remain this way. Human hands were too versatile, too useful, to give up. The human puppet made from the corpse of a wizard was adequate, but was nowhere as good as a real body was. It was slow and clumsy compared to what Voldemort was used to.
This ritual would fix that. Things had gone much faster with Ringvolde assisting in altering the ritual. Roachmort had only caught it sabotaging the designs three times in the whole process. A very foolish action of course because each attempt let Roachmort give Ringvolde even more specific orders as it closed every loophole allowing for its betrayals one by one.
But now after making sure Roachmort hadn’t missed anything, it was time. The ingredients were in place, and he stood there with his insect body controlling the human puppet. It was the full moon, a time ripe for transformation as they stood in an empty grassy meadow. Ringvolde was safe and unable to interfere back in the new base Roachmort had constructed in these last few months it had stayed in hiding.
It had to make sure that none of the other horcruxes became aware of it until the last moment before they were ambushed and forced into a contract of Roachmorts design.
The ritual activated and after a moment Roachmort felt the magic flood through his insect body. He felt his soul slowly repair itself and grow back to its former size, flooding his body with magic. Then, the next phase began. The flesh of the puppet began to flow and blend with the flesh of Roachmort the insect.
Roachmort integrated perfectly with the puppet until they were one. Reddish brown chitinous plates almost like armor appeared on the skin of the human, only the head remaining unchanged in its roach form. The ritual ended with the ingredients consumed as the process completed. Creating a perfect hybrid between insect and human.
Roachmort flexed its human hands. It was no longer a puppet, but him. Half man, half insect. The original Lord Voldemort would have been disgusted at the abomination, but Roachmort could only be elated at his success. Such strength, such power… with his magic now fully restored and properly integrated with this body he felt far more physically powerful than the original with the exact same magical power. He had not expected the exoskeleton to manifest, but he was not opposed. It was only more protection for him after all…
Roachmort picked up his borrowed wand and apparated away. He had some business to take care of before he started his hunt of the other clones of Voldemort. After putting Ringvolde back on his hand he started apparating to Asia in quick hops one after another, each about ten miles or so.
His magic was immense, but for such a long trip even he had to conserve his magic a bit if he didn’t want to waste time resting part of the way there. They had several wandmakers of note in Asia that Roachmort was aware of. They could fit him with a proper wand, and would forget about his unique appearance if given the right payment… or if they were sufficiently obliviated. Roachmort could accept either outcome. Going to Olivander's would be too much of a risk.
— — —
Dumbledore stood over the body of Barty Crouch Junior. The man who had been impersonating Mad-eye and infiltrated Hogwarts for over a year, teaching students with no one having a hint of suspicion for him. It had taken Dumbledore weeks to track the man down after the ministry broke the news of what had happened.
The Aurors were obviously working to track down the death eater, but he was at least smart enough to avoid them. Dumbledore, with his knowledge and the elder wand at his side combined, proved to be enough to corner the death eater eventually. After using his relatively unrefined legilimency and a few drops of veristatum potion, Dumbledore managed to extract some answers from the man.
Crouch Junior had had no contact with Voldemort since the end of the third triwizarding task, simply continuing as he was without any further guidance. The man had been on the hunt for Voldemort even while he was on the run, checking all sorts of safehouses and dark places for his master. But he had come up with nothing.
Seeing that Crouch Junior had no more information on Voldemort's location, Dumbledore killed him. If Dumbledore was going to stain his hands he would make sure it was at least a thorough purge. And the man had been involved in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom, he was by no means innocent. Hopefully the destruction of the whole generation of bigots would lead to an era for positive growth and compassion for muggles in Britain.
As Dumbledore was about to apparate away he felt something at his hip buzz. He lifted the flattish stone from his pocket as he realized what it was. Someone had tripped the wards he had set around the old graveyard. The ward that Dumbledore had placed was subtle, and as invisible a ward as he could make it. Dumbledore had put all his skill into making it impossible to find or detect, with the additional assistance of the elder wand. It had to be one of the escaped Death eaters or if Dumbledore was lucky, Voldemort himself that had tripped it.
He apparated onto a nearby hill far enough away that he wouldn’t be detected below. There was a cloaked figure strolling around and inspecting the graveyard carefully. Dumbledore carefully prepared to cast an anti-apparition ward at full power with the assistance of the elder wand with him being an exception to the ward’s block. He apparated behind the figure and cast it immediately after preparing himself.
“Stupify!” Dumbledore shouted a second later as the figure whirled around and dodged to the side. The hood fell back and Dumbledore saw the snake-like face with no nose. But under all the distortions it was still just barely recognizable as Tom Riddle. Voldemort.
Dumbledore saw Voldemort’s eyes widen as he saw Dumbledore standing there preparing to cast again.
“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort cast, and their spells met in a single beam of flashing light, green versus red. Dumbledore grunted and pushed more of his magic into his wand, pushing his red beam forward towards Voldemort.
Voldemort shouted wordlessly and in a wave of magical power slowly began to stop the red beam's approach and gradually push it back slightly. The blast of wind from their clash whipped Dumbledore’s long beard to the side as he leaned slightly forward slightly to keep his balance. With his other hand, Dumbledore made a claw-like motion and with a loud crack, one of the gravestones broke in half and flew from the side towards Voldemort.
Voldemort jumped into the air to dodge and his body became shrouded in black smoke as he flew upwards while still maintaining the clash between their spells. He went to fly to retreat, and Dumbledore took a deep breath to focus before letting his eyes dart around the area. He could not fly. But he did not have to.
He quickly apparated back to the nearby hill for a respite and cast a mild levitation spell on himself. He should fall very slowly now in mid air, even if he could not maneuver well. Voldemort was flying upwards and had nearly left the anti-apparition ward that Dumbledore had cast.
He took another deep breath.
He could now make no mistakes for this next part. He focused on the direction of the next part where Voldemort had given himself a slight advantage in maneuverability.
Voldemort had nearly escaped before Dumbledore apparated into mid air in front to block his way. He slowly started to fall and began furiously casting a barrage of spells at Voldemort's smoky black form. The cloud dodged and weaved, but Voldemort’s rush forward was stopped in its tracks. The cloud started flying parallel to Dumbledore’s barrage. Dumbledore apparated in the way and continued casting. One of his spells nearly hit Voldemort and the black cloud finally retaliated with a barrage of green killing curses in response. Dumbledore apparated out of the way of the counter attack and continued his assault, forcing Voldemort downwards and back to the center of the graveyard. Contained and unable to flee.
Their spells blasted pits and craters for kilometers around as the sky was lit with flashes of bright spells and beams of light from both sides.
Now that Voldemort was roughly contained to the site of the massacre of the death eaters, Dumbledore activated the trap. The deactivated second ward that he had painstakingly built sprang to life, activated by a single spell unseen cast in a small break of one of his spell barrages on Voldemort. Dumbledore apparated to the side to dodge another killing curse from Voldemort as the man tried to flee as he sensed what was happening below him.
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Before Voldemort could fly away a glowing golden sphere sprung up and contained him, using a strong wind charm to whip him around inside the sphere as if he was inside a massive tornado. Dumbledore apparated nearly directly above the sphere and pointed his wand downwards towards it. It would not hold Voldemort for long.
Dumbledore began chanting and layering spell after spell on the elder wand. As the magic flowed through him like a roaring river his voice began to boom loudly and his eyes glowed brightly as the magic flowing through him infused them.
Voldemort's smoky form twisted and struggled and green beams shot out in every direction from it, but none came close to Dumbledore. He layered another spell and glared down at the smoky form. One more spell and it would all be over. Voldemort would be without a body and Dumbledore would capture his spirit. Then Harry Potter could defeat him at his leisure, prophecy or no. He could not be merciful to the leader after having so ruthlessly killed his followers.
— — —
Lord Voldemort struggled to stabilize himself as he was whipped around furiously inside the sphere. Damnit! Since waking up in the locket horcrux everything was uncertain. Who knew if his soul would still remain anchored if he got killed again? Even if he did so, what were the chances he would manage to get the ingredients to give himself a new body, again?
Dumbledore’s voice boomed and Voldemort saw his form floating above practically radiating out magic in waves. Voldemort felt a pang of fear as he saw it. He had never seen the man so… sharp before. There was a flinty look in his eyes as they fought. Tom had always taunted Dumbledore for his mercy and gullibility over the years. But perhaps… Perhaps Dumbledore had been merciful because he could be. Because he didn’t see Voldemort as a true threat to him. Maybe that’s why he had always seemed amused and polite whenever Voldemort had encountered him…
Voldemort shook his head as he finally managed to anchor himself to the ground with a spell and get his bearings. No! He was Lord Voldemort! Master and Conqueror of Death! He feared no one! It-It was because of his faulty wand! If he had the original then him and Dumbledore would be evenly matched! Not this trash he had stolen from some dead wizard.
Noticing that the anti-apparition wards were unattended, Voldemort began furiously tearing into them with wild abandon. But Dumbledore had seen that he had managed to collect himself and started casting the monstrous spell he had been charging for this whole time.
“INVICTA INTERITUS MAXIMA!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed so loudly that Voldemort felt the magic in the sound wash over him and buzz through his bones as the earth rumbled beneath him from the sound.
A massive white ball gathered at the end of Dumbledore’s wand and its size grew, and grew, and grew, until it appeared to cover the whole sky. Voldemort’s eyes widened as he started working desperately to apparate away. Could Dumbledore have done this the whole time! Had he been holding back against him? Him? HE WHO HAD GONE DEEPER IN MAGIC THAN ANY BEFORE HIM!
He pushed forward with his rage and the apparition ward shattered under his renewed assault. The white spell had launched forward and was half the way to Voldemort by the time he was through. He started to apparate away, but he was too slow. The massive spell hit the edge of the cage and the ward that had kept him contained popped like a soap bubble the instant the spell touched it. Before he had disappeared the leading edge of the spell touched him.
Voldemort screamed as the explosion tore through the body in a wave of pain. He hit the ground with a thud on the ground ten miles away, his twitching body wracked with searing pain. He shifted and realized that the entire left half of his body was so charred that it was practically a skeleton and the wounds so infused with the magic of Dumbledore’s attack that there was no hope they could be healed in time to restore them. Lord Voldemort was crippled... And about to die.
‘Now, isn’t this convenient?’ a voice suddenly said in his head, sounding smug.
‘It seems that great minds think alike,’ it continued, ‘I will have to thank Dumbledore later for the help... I almost went in to take you out first, you know. That would have been disastrous. Imagine if Dumbledore had become aware of me so early!’
Voldemort's wand was summoned away from him and into the hands of the stranger standing over him. He tried to look up, but the burns on his left half made even the smallest movement painful. He could only see the person's ankles beneath their robes. They were wearing strange reddish brown shin guards. Or armor.
He felt a hand touch his back and suddenly he was apparated somewhere else. For several minutes his world was nothing but pain as the stranger cast a series of spells to stop him from dying from his wounds. Voldemort was under no illusion that this meant the stranger had his best interests in mind.
When he was healed enough to be coherent, The stranger levitated him up and forcefully sat him on a chair at a wooden table. There was a magical contract on the table in front of him. Ah, so that’s what this was. To think that Lord Voldemort, the dark lord would be reduced to this state.
‘So…’ the voice said, sounding amused as it seemed to see his expression, ‘No thanks for your rescue? Why don’t you just sign now and skip all the unpleasantness? You will sign it either way. I’m very good at getting what I want. You would know all about that.’
“Who are you?” Voldemort demanded, looking up to the cloaked figure in the corner of the room.
It stepped forward and threw back its hood revealing a massive insect head and a pair of long antennae sticking from its skull. It had a reddish brown exoskeleton and its mandibles clicked and shifted even as it stood there watching him. Voldemort’s eyes widened as he saw the abomination.
‘I am your savior,’ the abomination sent telepathically, ‘I’d suggest signing the contract before I am forced into more unpleasant methods to convince you.’
“Never!” Voldemort said, “I bow to-”
‘-No one, blah, blah, blah. I suppose I should have known,’ the abomination interrupted casually.
‘You will sign,’ it continued and paused briefly before speaking again, ‘Eventually. You all will… Crucio,’
Voldemort’s body flooded with a pain deeper than that of the body. He could feel it deep in his newly restored soul. Despite all the times he had cast the spell on others he had never experienced it for himself. He tried to cast wandless magic, to fly away, but the abomination cast a spell to bind him tightly in ropes and secure him to the chair. He could not escape.
— — —
Voldemort ended up signing the contract. It became clear that there was no escape, not even with his wandless magic or unassisted flight. After several hours of ‘persuasion’ he broke, seeing the futility of it when there was no rescue coming for him. And while he would be a servant for now, he would find a way to take his revenge on the abomination eventually. No contract was airtight, and if he destroyed this original copy then he would be free from it. Even if it took a thousand years, he would get his revenge for this humiliation. Revenge on this Roachmort as it called itself. A bastardization of his own name, clearly used only to mock that the creature held such power over him at the moment.
Voldemort loathed the name that the creature had given him. Locketmort, like he was nothing more than the horcrux that he had found himself in. The loathsome insect had even stolen the Gaunt ring of his ancestors and wore it openly on one of its hands.
But as much as he wanted to destroy Roachmort and reduce him to atoms, the contract was airtight and would not allow him to do so. So when Roachmort told him to follow and apparate to a new location, he could only obey. He would bide his time and heal his grievous wounds given to him by Dumbledore. Then, when Roachmort least expected it, he would strike it down!
— — —
The squads of Aurors inspected the area with wide eyes as they moved deeper into the graveyard. The glowing godlike figure of Dumbledore practically shrouded in magic while floating in the air had disappeared over thirty minutes ago. Apparating away with no one brave enough to stop him or even confront him about what had happened.
It was only now that the Aurors dared to go forward to inspect the battlefield. The whole area looked like a warzone with shattered stone and pits as deep as a man standing tall covering the entire area. The team eventually reached the area where that massive spell had descended and shook the earth so hard that they all had fallen to the ground.
They all stared in dread down into the massive crater hundreds of meters wide and plunging deep into the ground... Dumbledore had created this thing with a single spell.
They all glanced at each other.
“Th-This is the guy we’re trying to catch?” one man said faintly as he kept staring into the crater.
“I- I think I should retire early,” another added.
“Fuck, no wonder the old dark lord feared him. I can’t believe someone that could do this was just sitting at a school playing around at being a headmaster,” One of the women added.
“Quit-Quit gossiping, all of you!” their leader stammered, “Look- look around for clues. I’m sure… we’ll find something important. Yeah, let’s do that…”
So they all started investigating half heartedly. No one wanted to catch up to Dumbledore anymore. In the next few days over ninety percent of the Aurors that saw the crater transferred away from the Dumbledore taskforce or retired if their superiors refused the transfer. So began the first whispers of the Light Lord Dumbledore in the magical community domestically and across the world.
Many people knew of Dark Lords that had risen through the millennia, terrorizing the communities under their grip. But opposed to them were the legendary Light Lords that had reshaped the world just much in their crusades against the use of Dark magic and the promotion of peace and love for others.
A peace and love guaranteed under their iron fisted rule in some cases, suppressing all those who dared to step away from their grand visions and enlightened path. A single leader who could unite magical Britain under his agenda through pure magical power alone.
Dumbledore.