In the flickering firelight, an aged but still imposing figure materialized on a primeval island. Albus Dumbledore carried the limp form of Voldemort's remnant soul, who was quite thoroughly unconscious.
"Can it be?" Dumbledore muttered, a slight frown creasing his brow. His gaze drifted towards a box resting a short distance away. With a flick of his aged, withered hand, the box sprang open, revealing its empty interior… a simple, unremarkable box.
...
Voldemort's remnant soul groaned, every inch of his being aching from the whiplash induced by his recently acknowledged master. Never a particularly powerful wizard, he was now utterly spent, the pain compounded by his extended flight. He risked a glance behind him; the clouds continued to churn ominously. Reassuring himself that there was likely nothing to fear, he eased his grip on the broom, gradually slowing his pace. Exhaustion gnawed at him, and, he reasoned, his master was simply being paranoid. After all, he'd flown this far without incident.
Perhaps I am worrying needlessly? Although, by flying so slowly, I might be overtaken.
"Heh, what nonsense. Out here? Thousands of meters in the sky? Where would anyone even…"
He was cut short as he looked up, startled, to see Dumbledore, a silver-haired old man in a sweeping black coat, gracefully flying backward before him, maintaining a steady, unnerving distance, and smiling.
...
Through the thick, leaden clouds, slivers of "lightning" occasionally pierced the gloom — but this was lightning of a different breed, a malevolent green rather than the familiar white or blue.
"Avada Kedavra!" Lucas shrieked, gripping a box in one hand as he swung his wand wildly with the other.
Snape effortlessly transformed into a wisp of black mist, evading the incoming curse.
"Damn it!!!" Lucas howled, frustration and panic thickening his voice as his attack failed. He raised his wand high, slashing it down at Snape. A viscous cloud surged toward Snape!
Snape merely raised his left hand in a silent gesture, and the sweeping cloud seemed to freeze in mid-air, suspended before him. Then, with a flick of his right wrist, he shattered that cloud into nothingness.
"Incompetent fool!" Snape spat. He unleashed a curse with a contemptuous backhand gesture, then dissolved back into black mist to avoid the scarlet hex hurtling his way.
Seeing Snape's spell streaking towards him, Lucas wrenched his broom into a desperate dive.
The yellow and white spell detonated against the cloud with a deafening boom! The explosion ripped a gaping hole in the oppressive gloom.
Damn it… Lucas stared at the residual magical power of the blast, a shiver of dread tracing its way down his spine. Try as he might to deny it, he was clearly outmatched by Snape – vastly outmatched.
And on his broom, he was so much less mobile than Snape who employed the Flight Charm… There was no escape!
Lucas gnashed his teeth, his mind racing desperately, before seizing on an idea.
He yelled, "Wait! We both serve the Dark Lord! Why did you choose that one?!"
Snape, who had been about to end the battle swiftly and decisively, froze, incredulous. What an imbecilic question!
Seeing Snape "hesitate," Lucas felt a surge of hope. Pressing his advantage, he intensified his barrage, crying, "What he can offer, my master can offer! What he lacks, my master can provide! Why pledge allegiance to a mere Hogwarts professor? Swear fealty to the truly ambitious and magnificent Dark Lord, and your reward will be immeasurable!"
Snape felt as though he had gained a new understanding of just how foolish someone could be. The situation couldn't be any clearer, could it? Did this idiot even hear the drivel he was spewing?
What could that balding buffoon possibly offer me? To be a hunted fugitive like him? He probably can't even afford to pay my salary. Gringotts is under our control now, he probably could not even steal a Knut!
"I want Hogwarts," Snape remarked dryly. "Can he deliver it?"
Perhaps influenced by Tom Riddle, the usually taciturn Snape could not resist.
Hearing Snape's question, Lucas's heart soared. He replied with brimming confidence, "Yes! Once my master claims Hogwarts, it shall be yours!"
He actually dared to make promises on behalf of his master? Snape wondered if he was merely stupid or utterly fearless.
Snape shook his head. "Then Minister for Magic. Can he arrange that?"
"Of course! Once my master conquers the Ministry of Magic, that too shall be yours!" Lucas insisted, his tone unwavering.
"What about England itself?"
"Absolutely! Just wait—"
"Don't bother," Snape snapped. The idea of exchanging words with this moron had lost its appeal. "In short: he offers me nothing."
"You speak nonsense! My master vowed that we would each receive our heart's desire!"
Snape was astonished: to swallow such blatant lies so readily was mind-boggling.
Readying himself to attack once more, Lucas, sensing the shift in Snape's demeanor, frantically yelled, "Besides! Isn't my master the better option? Why not choose the superior side?"
This time, Snape did not deign to reply; he unleashed Divine Strike Without a Trace, and Lucas tumbled from his broom.
...
"Hiss… I have a very bad feeling about this."
Voldemort's remnant soul, astride a flying broom, hurtled through the air at breakneck speed, the real box clutched tightly in his grasp. "I think someone is watching me from the shadows."
Voldemort's remnant soul scanned his surroundings, his voice laced with uncertainty and dread. "But I can't see anyone."
"Really? Perhaps you are mistaken?"
"Of course not!"
Voldemort's remnant soul retorted without thinking, "My sixth sense is never wrong! How could it be merely a feeling..."
Tom Riddle, languidly floating alongside, reclined as if on a chaise lounge, his right elbow propped on his knee, his hand supporting his chin, his eyes fixed on Voldemort's remnant soul's back, as if diligently searching for the very "person" Voldemort's remnant soul described.
"No, there really doesn't appear to be anyone there at all." Tom Riddle frowned, feigning concern. "Perhaps you are simply imagining things?"
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