The Boy Who Ought To Be Dead - H.P

Book II - Prologue

"New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings."
- Lao Tzu

-

"My Lord," Yaxley began, bowing to Lord Voldemort.

"What is it, Corban? You mustn't add to my foul mood so early in the day." Voldemort spat mercilessly.

"I bring you great news, my Lord." He said, Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"Spit it out, Yaxley! I will not hesitate to kill you!" He snapped at his inferior, wand raised.

Yaxley shook with fear as he shrank, "M-My Lord, Harry Potter is dead."

Voldemort froze in shock, letting his wand clatter to the floor, making Yaxley jump.

Several seconds passed, Voldemort still hadn't moved, "my Lord?"

"Corban, where did you hear of this...information?" Voldemort questioned, his voice small.

Yaxley straightened, regaining his composure slightly, "my Lord, it is all over The Daily Prophet."

"The Daily Prophet..." Voldemort repeated, not quite believing his ears.

"Yes, my Lord. It seems, on the night of Friday, a funeral was held in honour of Potter." Yaxley informed, "the funeral allowed members of the public to attend and give their condolences."

Voldemort swallowed the bile in his throat and shakily sat down, "the Potter boy is dead?"

Yaxley gulped, not quite sure how to feel about the way Voldemort was acting, "yes, my Lord, dead. They say that you killed him."

Voldemort found that it was becoming difficult to inhale and exhale, "absurd, I could not have killed him. He apparated away far too quickly for me to cast the curse."

"My Lord, The Daily Prophet feels otherwise. According to Albus Dumbledore, 'remnants of a spell linking Voldemort's and Harry Potter's wand, killed him when he drew away.'" Yaxley explained, reading straight from the newspaper in his hands.

Voldemort impolitely snatched the newspaper from Yaxley's clutch, wanting to see for himself.

He read over the same words Yaxley read aloud to him. Rage built up within the man as he threw the paper into the air and wandlessly disintegrated it.

Yaxley flinched, knowing he would be the receiver of Voldemort's anger.

"This was not how he was meant to be killed!" Voldemort shouted, "he died taking my power with him!"

"My Lord, I-I don't understand." Yaxley stuttered.

"Of course you don't, you fool. When our spells collided, it created ancient magic — magic forgotten centuries before. The remnants that hit him killed him in a different way to the killing curse." Voldemort explained, in the midst of massive panic, "the killing curse is merely a chemical reaction in the body, which poisons the victim from the inside. It would somehow give me the power back that Potter took from me. It is unknown why, but it would have!"

Yaxley was listening intently to Voldemort's rant, no matter how scared he was in the moment.

"The remnants of the curse, however, kill you a different way. In fact, it is not guaranteed to kill you — It was an unfortunate ending to Potter's life. It harms you by draining your magical core immediately, letting the magic flow into your blood stream. If you are unlucky, like Potter, the magic will get stuck within the bloodstream, causing blocks to major organs — inevitably causing death." Voldemort continued, "if, however, you are lucky enough to live, the magic will safely continue to flow around your body, using your core as an energy supply. This, in theory, makes you capable of using magic effortlessly without a wand, along with other powerful abilities. If Potter were alive, I would be more than fucked."

"Wow," voiced Yaxley, slightly taken aback at the curse word, "how do you know of this? The connection between wands that you and Potter shared was very uncommon. Only three other pairs of wizards in recorded history shared that connection."

"One of the pairs — Melissa Youth and Emiliano Boulevard — wrote a book about said connection. It is called The Connections Of Ultimate Power." Voldemort spoke.

"I see," Yaxley said in utter interest.

"When the two both realised their wands were connected, they began to try many tests which they recorded in the book. One test they tried, was shooting a spell at each other simultaneously. To their disbelief, the spells met in the middle. Both held onto their spells as long as physically possible. When they pulled away, the remnants hit Boulevard, forcing him to collapse to the ground." Voldemort said, "Youth thought she had killed the man. She reported in the book that his heartbeat disappeared for a day; then, by some miracle, he was alive again, happy and healthy."

"How is this possible?" Yaxley interrupted.

"If you would let me finish, you would know." Voldemort spat.

"Sorry, my Lord." Yaxley apologised, shrinking slightly.

"Youth was a healer, so she checked Boulevard over and deemed him fine. Over the next few weeks, Boulevard's magic seemed to be stronger, he noticed that wandless magic was stupidly easy. He also realised that he no longer recognised his wand and vice versa." Voldemort explained, "Youth continued to write all this information into her book. One day, Youth and Boulevard had an advanced duel. As they continued to throw spells around, Youth told Boulevard to throw a harmless spell at her with full power — full potential. He agreed to do so, and shot a stunning spell by the name of stupefaciunt — which has been forgotten with time. He shot the spell at her and she flew back multiple feet. According to the last few pages of the book, which Boulevard wrote, a simple stunning spell with the amount of power he put behind it, killed her."

Yaxley paled dramatically, "from a simple stun? Merlin."

"Merlin, indeed, Corban. The other recorded pair, Bate impetus and Clare Shlaag had also noted their findings. These two figured out the science behind it. How it made the victim more powerful, how it could easily pose a risk." Voldemort finished.

"So, if Potter were still alive, you wouldn't stand a chance?" Yaxley asked.

"I would be rendered even more powerless than I currently am. Alas, there is no point dwelling on the thought. The boy is dead, he is not to fear." Voldemort said, not knowing why he didn't trust the words he spoke.