The echo of Tom Gaunt's leather shoes resounded with authority against the dark tiles on the floor of the Ministry of Magic.
He walked with a firm, regal stride through the lower level, heading toward the ancient doors that led to the chamber where the Wizengamot's extraordinary meetings were held. The atmosphere in the hallways was thick, heavy, and charged with the anticipation of the day's impending storm, for today was no ordinary day—today the official vote would take place to decide whether the Magical United Kingdom would formally declare war on Gellert Grindelwald and his growing army of minions throughout the rest of the world.
As he walked, Voldemort snorted under his breath, a clear trace of disdain twisting his lips. The very idea of having to submit to "votes" turned his stomach. If it were up to him—if the world operated according to the logic of power he so loved to espouse—there would be no debates or delays in making such an important decision. Everyone in that room would have to kneel, keep quiet, and do exactly as he said.
But, to his immense and constant frustration, he was the Minister of Magic in a society that still pretended to be democratic, and unfortunately, he had to play his political cards and wait for the joint decision that the wizards and witches on the tribunal would make.
When he finally opened the doors and entered the semicircular chamber, everything was shrouded in complete silence. There was still exactly half an hour before the session was set to begin, and the tiered seating was empty.
Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back, straightened his impeccable posture, and began to walk slowly around the room. He scrutinized every tier, every wooden platform, savoring the silence of his dominion over the Ministry, mentally preparing himself for the drama he was about to direct.
Suddenly, the creak of the main doors opening again broke the stillness of the room.
Voldemort stopped walking and slowly turned his head over his shoulder to see who had dared to interrupt his concentration. Upon recognizing the tall figure cloaked in blue robes, a genuinely amused, razor-sharp smile spread across his face.
"Dumbledore," Voldemort greeted him, his voice echoing through the empty hall.
Albus let out a soft chuckle as he descended the first few steps toward the center of the courtroom.
"It's truly good to see you, Minister Gaunt," Albus replied in an affable tone.
Voldemort turned fully toward him and raised an eyebrow, without letting the cold smile fade from his lips.
"I must admit I'm surprised to find you here so early, Albus. What brings you to my territory so suddenly?"
Dumbledore stopped a couple of meters away. His kind expression faded, giving way to the gravity that had been weighing on him lately.
"I am here because today, in this very chamber, I will try to use all my influence over the members of the Order and my political allies to get them to support your idea. I will ensure that the Wizengamot votes in favor of war."
Silence fell over the room again for a second, before being shattered by a loud, dark, deeply mocking laugh from the Dark Lord. Voldemort laughed so heartily that the sound echoed off the high walls of the courtroom.
"Ah, by Merlin…!" exclaimed Voldemort, wiping away a tear that had escaped him in his amusement. "Never, not even in my worst nightmares, did I imagine that the day would come when I would see the great and all-powerful Albus Dumbledore so overwhelmingly desperate as to come begging for an alliance with me."
Albus said absolutely nothing. He endured the mockery in silence, his hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for his former student's ego to be sated.
When Voldemort finally calmed down—though he still wore a smirk that betrayed his arrogance—Dumbledore stepped forward. His bright blue eyes locked onto the Minister's.
"This goes far beyond us, Tom. It goes beyond our differences or rivalries," Albus warned him. "If we are not united against this threat, we will have absolutely nothing left to fight for in the future. Or a future in which to live."
Dumbledore began to walk slowly around Voldemort, listing the facts with precision.
"You know as well as I do just how extremely dangerous Gellert is. The level of magic he wields, the fanaticism he inspires… And the fact that he has managed to get an Archmage of Kazimir's stature to join his ranks is something that should keep both of us awake at night. If a wizard of that caliber has bowed the knee, who knows what other Archmages in the world will end up joining his cause? That is why we must work together, Tom. All the power of the country must be focused on a single goal. And with Aurelian's brilliance, surely…"
"Stop right there," Voldemort cut him off instantly.
The Dark Lord's smile vanished, replaced by a mask of pure, icy fury. The magical tension in the room skyrocketed, causing the entire place to tremble.
"Don't you dare..." Voldemort hissed, closing in on Dumbledore until he was just inches from his face. "I accept your alliance. I accept that it's imperative to wipe Gellert off the map before he destroys the rest of the world. But under no circumstances will I drag my son into your stupid lovers' war, Dumbledore. You won't use him as your pawn."
Albus held his gaze steady in the face of the Dark Lord's monstrous presence and let out a sigh of resignation.
"That won't be possible anymore, Tom, and deep down you know it," Albus replied frankly. "Gellert Grindelwald already has his sights set on him." After the incident with the Obscurial, Aurelian is already a top priority for him. And let's be honest… even if I tried to keep him away, even if you yourself forbade it, Aurelian would end up getting involved anyway. Your son isn't the kind of person who stands idly by, and he certainly won't allow himself to be sidelined from the decisions that shape the world around him."
The anger on Voldemort's face froze. His breath caught as Dumbledore's words collided with the reality of his own son's megalomaniacal nature.
Voldemort lowered his gaze, the image of Aurelian talking about conquering the stars and terraforming planets flashing through his mind. He knew perfectly well that the old man was right. His son was mad.
The Dark Lord took a step back, clasping his hands behind his back once more, and clenched his jaw.
"No… he isn't," Voldemort murmured, his voice dripping with a mixture of pride and concern.
The echo of Voldemort's admission still lingered in the air of the Wizengamot chamber when Dumbledore decided to take it a step further, venturing into extremely dangerous territory.
"Speaking of unyielding tempers and brilliant minds…" Albus began, his tone dropping to a whisper. "This whole situation reminds me very much of Elaine."
The very moment that name left the headmaster's lips, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted dramatically. Voldemort tensed. He turned his neck slowly and narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on the old man. All traces of mockery vanished; now, Dumbledore had his complete and undivided attention.
Albus, unfazed by the murderous aura suddenly emanating from the Minister, simply smiled gently at him, lost in his memories of years past.
"She was a fascinating student—truly fascinating. A very diligent girl in Ravenclaw," Dumbledore recounted, walking slowly across the podium. "I remember she was always far more interested in getting lost in the dusty corridors of the library than in interacting with her housemates. Although, I must admit, she was always willing to help others with their homework… provided, of course, that such help meant she'd be granted access to more books or given passes to the Restricted Section."
Dumbledore let out a small chuckle.
"She was a very curious young woman. Absolutely insatiable in her thirst for knowledge. She wasn't content to just cast a spell; she was always seeking to understand, right down to the root, exactly how magic worked."
Voldemort's defensive barriers seemed to melt away for a second at the precise description of the woman he loved. The tension in his shoulders eased. A genuine smile—almost imperceptible but undeniably warm—softened the Dark Lord's harsh features as he nodded slowly.
"Elaine was… special," Voldemort murmured, his voice losing its usual tone and suddenly sounding warm. "Different from everyone else. She was one of a kind."
"She was," Dumbledore agreed, stopping in front of him and looking at him with renewed interest. "So different and so brilliant, Tom, that she managed to see something in you that I was completely unable to see."
Voldemort regained some of his haughtiness and let out a soft chuckle.
"Oh, really?" the Minister asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly did she see in that Slytherin monster that the infallible Dumbledore overlooked?"
Albus didn't blink. He held his gaze and replied with a single word—gentle yet devastating.
"Love. She saw love, Tom."
Voldemort was speechless. His eyes widened slightly more than usual, betraying the impact of that simple word—a word that normally wouldn't stir anything in him, but which was so directly linked to his memory of Elaine. He didn't refute it. He didn't hurl an insult or anything. He simply stood there, paralyzed in complete silence.
Taking advantage of that tiny, unprecedented crack in the Dark Lord's armor, Dumbledore's face filled with deep and sincere regret.
"Tom... I should have done more for you back then," Albus confessed, his voice weighed down by the guilt that had built up over half a century. "When you were just a child and begged me, year after year, not to send you back to that dreadful orphanage in London... I should have listened to you. I should have gotten you out of there. I failed you."
The wall of ice rose once more.
The mention of his past weakness—of his time of humiliation and terror in the Muggle world—was the perfect catalyst for Voldemort to shut his heart off again. Vulnerability transformed into a cold, controlled fury.
With a sudden movement that made his cloak billow, Voldemort strode forward, passing directly by Dumbledore and deliberately jostling his shoulder roughly against the headmaster's.
"Stop this sentimental nonsense, old man," Voldemort snapped, his voice dripping with venom as he walked toward the gates of the compound. "Save your pathetic apologies for yourself. Focus on Grindelwald, on the war, and on what truly matters today."
Albus spun on his heels, opening his mouth to reply, but the heavy door was already slamming shut with a loud crash, leaving the headmaster completely alone in the courtroom.
Dumbledore stared at the closed doors for a long time. Finally, a small, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips as he slowly shook his head, amused by the man's defensive attitude.
"Who would have thought," Albus thought, "the most fearsome, dark, and relentless being the wizarding world has ever seen… and it turns out that the brilliant and curious Elaine Harper would be his one and only unshakable weakness."
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