Chapter 5

Voldemort had spent over a month hidden away in his study with Nagini and the Book that Harry Potter had left to him. Many would be surprised to see his current appearance, he appeared to be around twenty years of age, strong and charismatic. He was currently standing before the French doors leading to the garden just off his study staring into nothingness, trying still to come to grips with what had happened at Potters will.

After Nagini had again found him and brought him back to healthy enough to comprehend her words, she had lead him to a meadow, which had held a strange book… it had glowed in the moonlight, the cover itself had been a glowing alabaster, though a pale blue aura had glowed its way around the book. He had been fascinated by the power of the magic that had emanated from the deceptively slender volume and had slowly floated towards it, when a small piece of himself had touched the aura around the volume, he had felt a wrenching pain consume him.

For three hours, until the moon was at its highest in the sky he had known nothing but the anguish that consumed him, a thousand times worse than any Cruciatus. When it had finally ended he had had his Voldemort form back, the one he had, had since his resurrection. He had been amazed at the power of this book and he had wondered what great wizard had created the magnificent tome. And then he had opened the book and read the opening… 'Dear Voldy, You are welcome good luck with the Wizarding world, I am fading; and as such I leave to you the charge that was passed to me, Sincerely Potter.' And that had sent him spinning for loops in his head.

His brain had for twenty minutes just shut down and refused to comprehend.

Finally Nagini had yanked on his ankle and watched him fall to get his attention, and then she had explained the charge that she had accepted on his behalf as his bonded familiar and soul carrier. Because she had made a magical oath while carrying a piece of his soul he was held to the oath on pain of his magic and life.

The concept was simple… implementing it was a nightmare to consider; in fact if he wasn't told better in a very stern hiss by his familiar he would have thought that Potter had left it to him and allowed himself to die just so that he would have to be the one to deal with it.

The idea was a council. Overthrow the ministry and reconcile The Great Council. The great council was an odd and powerful thing, and had not been in power since the betrayal of the Orcs some ten thousand years ago. It seemed simple enough, until you thought about it. Every race has two representatives, one male and one female… of each alignment.

Imagine if you would a large hall with every magical being seated within its walls. Now getting past the whole blood feuds, rivals, and species instinctive hatreds (Good Luck!) the next issue was that there were three alignments… not dark and light but Good, Evil, and Neutral. And they all had to work together to get things done by votes…

Voldemort sighed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, slumping further until his forehead pressed against the pane of glass. At least the boy had left him the book. Every page held a worlds worth of knowledge, for example the first page taught him everything there was to know about how to arrange the council. The next taught him the language, ways and history of the goblins. The next the Veela, followed by vampires and centaurs… it went on like this to every magical species… and all the wile every page he read sent his body closer to perfect health.

Harry Potter was healing him, strengthening him, and preparing him for the future he had wanted. To top all of this off he had left several journals of his life to Voldemort as well as his vaults… that's right the entirety of his vaults went to Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore stared at Fawkes, surprised to see him moulting once again, he had had a fire day just a week ago. There was something wrong here and he could find no reason for the undue suffering of his familiar.

A throb from his right wrist completely claimed his attention. Madame Pomfrey had been unable to do more than stop the bleeding. His hand had been severed by the trap that Harry Potter had set upon his own wand (he assumed) to prevent Deatheaters from using it against him, anyone could hold the wand… but to use it was forbidden.

When he had attempted to use the wand to add more beds to the infirmary after the battle, a dome had appeared around the wand, severing his hand just above the wrist. He had watched in shock as his hand had fallen to the floor, a dome covering it and the wand preventing anyone from touching either. Madame Pomfrey had rushed forward to try to reattach the limb; however upon being unable to reach it she had had to make due with attempting to heal his wrist before he died of blood loss.

She had managed to stop the blood from leaving his body but the wound refused to be healed at all. Even now it was still raw and tender, periodically swelling agonizingly before returning to it's normal size. For five days the hand had been upon the hospice floor, none able to move it. And for some reason the hand remained exactly as it was, no sign of decomposition or decay. Upon the end of the fifth day, the hand and wand had both disappeared, leaving only a small charcoal smear upon the ground where they had lain. Leaving the impression that they had combusted, burning away into nothingness.

Albus in private had sworn to himself later; he now realized that the boy had given him a sort of warning weeks before the incident.

-flashback-

"Harry, Miss Granger has informed me that you have been excited about something lately, I don't suppose you'd share? I think I could use a little excitement at the moment."

Harry had beamed at him with a bright face, the happiest he had seen the boy since fifth year… "Well I found a way to prevent anyone from using my wand against me again like Moody suggested!" the boy practically chirped.

Albus had simply gazed at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on, and realizing that he wouldn't siply asked. "And how did you manage that?"

Harry had given him a sly grin like he was letting him in on a private joke and said "Let's just say… you never want to touch my wand. It's an experience you'll want to avoid at all costs!" After that Harry had refused to speak any more of it. So Dumbledore had assumed that Harry had been just playing around as Dumbledore himself was unaware of a way to prevent such a thing.

-end flashback-

Dumbledore regretted now that he had not pushed harder on the subject, especially as Harry had not been known to lie well and he had seen no signs of falsehood at the time. He groaned as his wrist again started to throb, and he tried again to distract himself with his phoenix.