A Story of Mortality

Chapter 9

It was many more months before Voldemort found himself and his force confronting Dumbledore's light. It was nearing the end of summer, official war having been declared the previous winter, and Voldemort had been leading a select few of his followers, along with two of Potter's followers, through the Highlands. They were in search of a man who had been tipped off as an old friend of Dumbledore's, but not one that necessarily agreed with his current activities, and were hoping to be able to confirm that he would not fight against them. It would, of course, have made more sense to send Potter, as he was the more diplomatic of the two Dark Lords, but he was otherwise occupied doing Salazar knows what, seeming confident that Voldemort would be able to do the job.

It was drizzling, soaking their clothes, and the long grass was uncomfortable to walk through, but Voldemort was sure that they were getting closer.

They were not far from their destination when Voldemort heard them. He had demanded absolute silence from the followers accompanying him, and so he was able to lock immediately on the other sound. A group of people. Disorganised squelching heading towards them from around the hill. Somebody grumbling about the weather. The one falsely friendly voice that grated against Voldemort like nails on a chalk board.

"Defensive position," he murmured in instruction.

He stopped, and let the followers organise themselves neatly behind him. They drew their wands, but held them loosely to the side. A warning, but not a threat.

When Dumbledore and his followers came into sight, the three Light wizards with him drew their wands, and pointed them threateningly, a contrast. Dumbledore continued towards them, unconcerned that his force was half the size of Voldemort's.

"I must confess, I was not expecting to run into you here," Dumbledore said, an approachable smile in place. "To what do we owe the honour?"

"We, too, were not expecting company; you have only a twisted form of fate to thank," Voldemort responded, donning a charming smile.

"A delightful coincidence. I was merely visiting an old friend of mine here, but I cannot think why I might see you in the same area." There was a curious twinkle in his eye, but Voldemort knew that he already suspected they came of a similar purpose.

"It is a pleasant walking spot," Voldemort stated, challenging the old man to question him outright. "We have been a tad unfortunate with the weather."

"That you have," Dumbledore agreed.

A tense silence fell, the only sound coming from the nervous shuffling of Dumbledore's men.

Dumbledore and Voldemort were both charmers, each having a mask to lure others into their way of thinking, but they had never fooled each other; clashing from the very beginning.

"As lovely as this little meeting has been, I would very much like to get on and see my friend, if you don't mind," Dumbledore smiled, clearly meaning for the wands to be put away.

"You wouldn't leave us so soon, would you?" Voldemort asked, taking a step forwards.

Dumbledore was powerful, and he would not have made any threat had he been alone with the man. Voldemort's force, however, was stronger than Dumbledore's, and so they could certainly all get out of a scuffle largely unharmed. Most of all, Voldemort did not want Dumbledore getting through to his friend. It certainly would not tip the balance out of proportion, but it would be a small victory that Voldemort did not want to allow.

"Pair and attack," Voldemort called. "No mortalities. Rosier, with me."

His and Potter's followers ran at Dumbledore's, quickly establishing a partner and a victim, while Dumbledore's followers scattered, unprepared for the sudden attack. Rosier was the most powerful with him, and so he called upon her to assist in distracting Dumbledore. Dumbledore could not be defeated in a duel such as this, he knew, but he needed only to keep the man away from the other battles breaking out. With both Voldemort and Rosier attacking mercilessly, Dumbledore had time only to effectively deflect each curse, yet he still did so with ease.