The cathedral was truly an excellent meeting spot for death eaters. Magnus closed his eyes, feeling the presence of Voldemort in his mind. Somewhere in there he found the power of the dark mark, a spell of sorts that caused it to burn and send out his location. Allow me, they are my followers. He heard. It was Voldemort’s voice, high and cold. It sounded almost comical at times, the greatest dark wizard to live, and his voice was no different from a cartoon character.

“My faithful servants.” Magnus said, more to Voldemort than to the death eaters present. “I have recovered.” Returned may have been more appropriate, but Magnus couldn’t say that, no. Allowing one’s subordinates to know they were abandoned was never a great idea. For all they cared, he never left.

Say what you wish, muggle. They serve me, me! He heard in his mind.

He felt Voldemort read them, scanning for emotions but finding none. That may be because of the dementors. They ringed the cathedral, dark, ethereal creatures radiating horror and despair. A fitting atmosphere for the orders he was going to give.

Lucuis spoke up first, before he could speak. “If I may ask, what harmed you, dark lord? What happened on that day?” He asked. Magnus heard Voldemort hiss. Old fox, always looking for weakness. He shoved it aside, he would deal with him later.

“A charm, crafted to stop the killing curse and attack the caster. I suspect Dumbledore was the creator.” He heard a few curses and fearful grimaces as he spoke the name. “It has taken years, but be assured that I have recovered.” Magnus raised Voldemort’s wand, his wand now.

“We shall be continuing our plans. Dumbledore’s charm was merely a delay, a hindrance. The wizarding world has forgotten their fear of us, and we shall teach them to remember!” Magnus shouted, his high pitched voice echoing throughout the cathedral like a scream.

“We will continue to destroy those in the ministry that shall be our enemies. We shall infiltrate their ranks and control their leaders. We will control the muggle rulers, and teach them to know their place. We will find those who have done us wrong, and have our revenge. We shall rise again, and rule the wizarding world!” He raised his wand into the air. “Morsmordre!”

Above the cathedral, the dark mark formed, the serpent grinning as it stared down at the unsuspecting homes below. “Morsmordre!” The death eaters echoed, hundreds of dark marks appearing beneath it in the sky.

He could feel it now, Voldemort’s reading had revealed strength and joy, perhaps not as much as Magnus would have hoped, but enough. The dementors drifted forward, eager to feed, and Magnus glared at them with his new red eyes, daring them to move. A few did, the fools.

“Expecto Patronum!” Magnus said, pointing his wand. A cloud formed, silvery and bright. It exploded in a blast of power, shredding the nearby dementors with the attack. It followed those who came near as they retreated, flying forward in a ruthless pursuit.

He heard their screams as they died, the unearthly, inhuman screams of creatures who lived in despair. It seemed fitting that they would die in it too. The patronus was infectious, the death eaters growing in enthusiasm as it passed by, the dementors who had fled dissipating as their physical forms unraveled. The others stood, almost uncertain as Magnus’ gaze passed, not daring to move.

They were foul, but not much more than the death eaters around them. All characters from a storybook, built for a purpose and nothing more. Voldemort was only a perfect example, a pathetic creature crafted of childish fears and a thirst for power. It almost felt underwhelming to manipulate them, the inner workings of their minds open to him in the form of a fantasy story.

He knew none of them, yet he knew them all. They were useful tools, broken, chipped, and treacherous tools, but useful nonetheless. Once he was finished with them he could destroy them at a whim, or perhaps keep them, it would make no difference.

If Voldemort could hear his thoughts he may have scoffed at being viewed as a tool, but he couldn’t. Magnus had long since won the duel of souls that made him the master of his new body. He waved his wand again, quieting the crowd. “Three are not with us today, of more than a hundred in number. One who fled out of fear, who shall be punished. One who remains a loyal servant, seeing to my plans from afar. One, who I consider my most faithful servant, who died in my service to cover our escape at Azkaban.” He said, silvery light gathering at the tip of his wand.

What is this? He heard Voldemort ask.

“She shall be rewarded, and returned to us. Today, I show you the powers of a dark wizard long past. I present to you the knowledge of Ekrizdis, the soul eater!” No! Do not reveal that, you cannot. You must not! I refuse! He heard Voldemort scream.

As if on cue, the doors to the cathedral opened, and his victims were shuffled in. Men and women, old and young, were all lined up neatly along the floors. Their eyes were closed, still sleeping. Their rest would last forever. He heard confused muttering from the death eaters, but most stayed silent. Very few seemed excited.

“Dumbledore made a mistake, experimenting with dark magic in the creation of his locket. He let loose a rogue spirit on me, summoned from the void of death. That was his error. In doing so he gave me the knowledge which I had sought for years, the power to consume and dominate the souls of the dead. And with these souls,” Magnus said, silvery light brightening to outshine the sun, “I conquer death itself.”