Chapter 250. News.
France. Paris. Three days later.
Late in the evening, above the rooftops of low buildings, a mass of black smoke tore through the sky at enormous speed. Had anyone drawn close to this peculiar phenomenon, they might have heard furious hissing punctuated by a stream of choice curses.
Behind it, squads of dark wizard hunters Apparated in pursuit. Having learned from bitter experience, they no longer tried to strike their target with spells; they simply chased and tried to corner him, constantly feeding his position to other teams.
Besides, casting spells at night in full view of Muggles, in one of the busiest cities in the world, would have been sheer foolishness and a flagrant breach of the Statute of Secrecy.
The unfortunate fugitive was none other than Voldemort himself, the genuine article. He had arranged a meeting with a dark artifact dealer, but he could never have anticipated that his visit to the Paris catacombs would end in this damned chase by the French government.
What Tom couldn't fathom was how they had recognized him at all. He had disguised himself as an ordinary wizard and given nothing away.
Yet the moment he entered the catacombs and reached the hall lined with human remains, the exit had sealed shut. He found himself surrounded by some three dozen wizards. Even he would have struggled against such odds in a semi-enclosed space with only one way out.
So he had simply fled. First he engaged them to create a distraction, then flew straight past them. Through sheer luck, he located an exit with surprising speed, only to be pursued the moment he got outside.
Thus began an hour-long chase that had already grown tedious for the Death Eater. But he understood perfectly well that if he stopped for even a moment, he would be caught and surrounded instantly. The massive barrier hanging over all of Paris, layered with Anti-Apparition charms, kept him from leaving this accursed city. He had no choice but to fly straight ahead until he escaped its range.
*What the hell is happening here?! I hadn't even done anything, and I was already surrounded on all sides?! And these shouts that I won't escape again? Could it be that some suicidal fool decided to use my name and appearance to commit crimes?!*
Radiating a murderous bloodlust, Voldemort brooded, still trying to work out how anyone could have known what disguise he was using for his walk through the city and catacombs.
"Someone has betrayed me. And the moment I find out who, I'll turn their pathetic life into hell! I'll destroy their entire damned family right before their eyes! No one dares betray me — the Dark Lord!"
"Stop immediately! Don't make this worse!" one of the pursuers shouted after him, his face sporting light stubble.
Riddle, however, considered himself far above such pathetic Ministry of Magic lapdogs. He offered no reply, merely snorting with contempt as he raised his hand.
With a circular sweep of his wand, dark smoke erupted outward, swallowing a vast area within seconds and nearly blotting out their vision.
But this didn't stop the law enforcement officers. They cast wind spells and blew the veil of smoke away.
Of course, they hadn't stopped moving — they kept flying forward. But by the time the smoke dispersed, their quarry had vanished.
The group wasted no time. They split into several groups at once.
"As soon as the target is found, do not engage! Report to me immediately!" the commander ordered sternly, keenly aware of how powerful their enemy was. Even a group of seven couldn't hope to bring him down.
"Yes, sir!" One group stayed behind to comb the immediate area while the others flew onward.
Voldemort himself had slipped into one of the nearby houses, watching grimly from a window as the seven wizards stood on the opposite roof. He could easily dispose of them, of course, but that would be unwise. He didn't want to draw the others' attention just yet, so he decided to wait.
Though it went against his nature — every fiber of his being screamed at him to go torture those curs to death — he chose to listen to reason for once. He needed to consider where this future corpse came from, someone who knew about his Polyjuice potions, for which he used completely random wizards.
*How irritating…* He felt a searing shame that he, the strongest dark wizard in Britain, had to hide from such weaklings.
"Look carefully! If he hasn't escaped, he can't have gone far. Check everything: garbage bins, toilets, even the bystanders. This bastard could have taken another dose of Polyjuice, and we don't know how many doses he has left. Don't forget, he's insane, so stay alert!"
He heard the slightly muffled warning from outside, and his irritation spiked again. It had been a long time since he'd wanted to break someone's neck this badly, even though he recognized this as a pathetic provocation meant to play on his pride and lure him out.
*Provocation… this is just a provocation…* Like a mantra, he repeated the words to himself as he sat on a sofa in a small room to the right of the half-open window, listening to their voices and cursing whoever had dared to impersonate him…
---
Seated before a cauldron draped with black cloth, eating breakfast, Severus read a French newspaper with a smile on his lips. On the front page, shown from the waist up, was the Dark Lord himself, labeled "especially dangerous" and "wounded." Below were seven more faces depicting possible disguises.
"What an idiot. I'm surprised he's still at large, but damn! Making a subordinate brew Polyjuice for you? It'd be one thing if you didn't know how, but when you've got an Outstanding in Potions… a genius! I won't even be surprised if he dies of his own stupidity."
He tossed the newspaper onto the table, took another sip of tea, then set the cup squarely over the face of the furious Dark Lord in the moving photograph and rose from his chair.
"But I have to admit his resourcefulness. Not everyone could pull off an escape with that many Aurors chasing you. And I did try to maximize their numbers. I even broke into the Ministry of Magic and escaped the kittens, though I probably shouldn't have put them to sleep with a mixture of catnip and sleeping potion. Maybe they could have joined the chase too…"
He pulled the cloth from the cauldron, revealing a mixture black as pitch. Its appearance and faint aroma immediately made clear that tasting it would be deeply unwise.
This was confirmed by a fly buzzing at the far end of the room, thirty meters away, which abruptly dropped to the floor, motionless.
For Severus himself, the poison was nearly harmless. Over these seven days, as it had gradually grown more toxic, he had adapted to it: Nagini's own venom had played no small role in that.
"Not bad." He produced a small vial, and the contents rose in a thin stream from the cauldron, steadily filling the empty transparent container.
"The color is a couple of shades brighter than it should be… the smell…" He inhaled cautiously. "Somewhat more pungent…"
After a few seconds, the cauldron stood completely empty, then vanished from its place. After brewing such a dangerous poison, the magical steel had become fully saturated with it. Any subsequent potions prepared in it would also turn poisonous.
He crossed to a long steel table on the right, surrounded by five white cabinets filled with various ingredients and vials of different colors. He placed the vial on the table, and the cabinet doors swung open in unison. One by one, potions and herbs began flying out, settling on the table.
When the table was piled high with materials, leaving only a small clear area around the container for work, he snapped his fingers. More than twenty empty, transparent screens materialized above the table.
*First, I need to check the toxicity level and run a general analysis of the poison…*
He passed his glowing palm over the vial, and numbers and strange symbols began appearing on the screens, comprehensible only to Severus. A small empty test tube flew up from the table, and a drop of poison fell into it, followed by several more vials of cloudy liquid and various herbs…
---
And so, Severus sat in his laboratory until almost evening, analyzing the potion he had created. He filled nearly half a notebook with observations, and though the result was technically a failure, he was more than satisfied: he was close to perfection.
Because the magical foundation of this world was so weak, the herbs had lost some of their properties. But since Severus had managed to break the poison down into its components, he had been able to correct those deficiencies. Now he was ninety percent certain the next potion would turn out exactly as it should.
He was in no hurry to begin brewing, however. First, he wanted to run a simulation, and before that, to meet with Flamel and discuss several points. Most importantly, he needed to examine the Philosopher's Stone. If his theories about it proved correct, work could begin in just three days. Otherwise, preparing the next batch of ingredients could take at least another week.
For this reason, the very next day, he brought the poison and his notebook full of results. Using a portal linking his home to a hotel room, he returned to Paris, and from there Apparated to Flamel's house.
But his thoughtful expression froze the moment he arrived on the familiar street. Before him stood a completely destroyed building, cordoned off by dark wizard hunters who were examining the scene with grim expressions. The dents in the ground and neighboring structures made it clear that a serious battle had taken place here.
"Who the hell did this?!"
------------------------------------------
Chapters on Patreon progress: Currently at;
1. Harry Potter: Satan? Nah, Just My Family Crest = CHAPTER 436
2.Harry Potter: Beyond Good and Evil in the Wizarding World = CHAPTER 451
3.Harry Potter: Reborn as Draco Black = CHAPTER 238
support me on Patreon for instant access to the 120+ advance chapters: patreon.com/redofic