Hogwarts: Era of Darkness

"Here is everything we learned from Wormtail." Moody explained, taking a swing from his flask after putting a stack of documents on Dumbledore's desk. "He is true to his name; that boy has no spine at all."

"How's he mentally?" The old wizard asked, opening the first folder and skimming through it.

"Broken. As always, the Dark Lord had some protection spells on it. Getting through those was not easy, and it had adverse effects on his psyche; I don't think he will recover."

"What does that mean, Alastor? No need to be soft with me; I ordered you to do everything possible to get the information out of him."

"He mentally reverted to a state of how he was at the start of his life in Hogwarts. He doesn't remember anything else anymore, even forgetting the ability to turn into a rat. We made sure it wasn't just an act, giving ample opportunities for him to try and escape, but he didn't take it. As we speak, he usually is hunkered down in his temporary cell, crying and calling for his mom."

"I see... In the end, little Peter is the one who comes out on top of it all. He forgot his sins and all the evil he did, returned to a blissful existence, and started fresh, as so many before him could never do. Ironic."

"Yes. Life... is unfair." Alastor nodded, taking another swing, "What should we do with him?"

"We will transfer him to one of our prisons. Tell the guards there to be on high alert for two reasons."

"Two?" He asked back, surprised.

"We can't be sure about Tom's next move. He may try to recover him, but that is unlikely in my eyes. I am more worried about Sirius and the last Weasley."

"Both are uncontrollable." Moody agreed, leaning on his walking stick and putting his flask away. "The former is totally lost in his revenge; no matter what he says, he thinks the opposite of it."

"Yes, and his influence infected the young Weasley too. He is a horrible wizard, unable to cast basic spells, and fights like a muggle using his fists instead of a wand. We need to make him hit a wall, Alastor; maybe that can help redirect him to the correct path."

"Do you have something in mind?"

"I do, in fact." Dumbledore smiled, stroking his beard while reading the last piece of paper about Wormtail's interrogation. "Make sure Sirius learns about which place we keep Peter at. Let him go and try ending his old friend's life, and we will use it to put an end to Sirius's madness."

"Are you going to kill him?" Moody asked, his magical eyes locking onto Dumbledore while his regular one slowly closed, waiting for his answer.

"No. But we are to grant him peace and make sure he also forgets all the horrible things that happened to him. Let him and Peter start a new life and maybe become friends again."

"What about the kid, Ron?"

"Punish him as you see fit so he learns from it and changes before it is too late."

"Mhm..."

As the two were falling into silence, thinking about different ideas, the door to Dumbledore's office opened, and McGonagall entered with a letter in her hands.

"Albus, this just arrived!"

"Hm?" Taking it from her, he soon stood up, reading it over multiple times, making Moody's magical eye stop spinning once again, only looking at Dumbledore. "Scratch that, Alastor. Delegate your task to others you trust! You will come with me and Minerva!"

"What is it?" He questioned while Dumbledore gave him the letter. "Did you verify it, Minerva?"

"I did." She nodded, confidently continuing, "I even tracked down Snape, who looked into it and sent word that sure enough... it exists."

"So he didn't know about it?" Moody asked, feeling suspicious.

"He did not. By his words, right now, his work consists of only the most important missions and tasks, and this is... below him."

"Or Tom still doesn't trust him." Dumbledore added, standing up and going before his window, stroking his bread with his right hand, watching the snowfall hitting the ground in the midnight's darkness.

"Both are a possibility." McGonagall agreed, "But from what we gathered, this hidden prison is real... and anything hidden is a target we need to take seriously!"

"We will go; I already decided on it." The old 'Headmaster' said, one hand behind his back, his fingers twitching as if he was counting something.

"Don't be so hasty!" Moody interjected, reading the letter a second time, "This can also be a trap..."

"It can be, yes, but if it is, we can face Tom."

"Headmaster..." The two murmured, looking at his back, feeling as if he was preparing for his death, which scared them.

"I'm confident that I can stop him, maybe even injure him. I was ready for a duel since returning to our home! Don't worry; I know my limits, and we won't be alone. The worst case could be that we fail to free new allies and have to retreat empty-handed."

"What about Neville?" Moody asked after thinking through his words.

"What about him?" McGonagall snorted, "You can't be thinking of wanting to bring him along!"

"I do, in fact."

"No." Dumbledore answered before McGonagall could protest against the idea. "He finally began blooming and is on his own quest. He is pursuing the Anguine kids.

"Shouldn't his focus be the Dark Lord?" Moody doubted, feeling it was a waste of time.

"I have a strong feeling, Alastor, that our paths will cross at one point. Be it Tom, the Anguine family, or us, we will arrive at the same spot, where everything will be decided at once."

"How can you be so sure about it?" McGonagall asked, feeling the same as Moody, finding it hard to believe it so strongly. It was something they could never do, yet they tried. They tried many times, but only Dumbledore succeeded with it. It was why he was the only possible leader of the Order, never losing hope and keeping the group on track towards victory.

"The will of Magic itself... The source of all divinations." He murmured, not willing to explain it, but he meant it. After meeting his old friend and seeing him walking freely once again, he suddenly remembered something they discussed as young men. It was a wild idea, but it explained so much about the Origin of Magic... He just stopped thinking about it in the end.

...
....
......

"You called for me, My Lord?" Snape asked, entering the private quarters of Lord Voldemort in Hogwarts.

"Yes, Severus, come in." He hissed in a tired voice, and as soon as he closed the door behind him, he felt cold. It was not because of the harsh winter they were having. The fire burned within Voldemort's fireplace, painting the room orange and warming it up, yet no matter how bright it burned, it was useless. It was... HIS killing intent which made the air chilly.

"Did something happen?"

"Yes." The Dark Lord answered with a smile hanging on his face, standing above a coffee table, looking down at it, watching a map with skull-shaped pins stuck to it. "Look at this and tell me what you see."

Looking at the map, Snape was using all of his experience to remain stoic and not betray any feeling trying to burst forth from within him. He knew it very well, as they were places where the Order kept prisoners they captured. They didn't hold onto them because of goodwill. He knew the real reason behind it well. There were things that were only between him and Dumbledore, dealings that were needed to keep them in the fight for this long. Sometimes, captured Death Eaters were 'freed' when being transported, rescued by Snape himself, bringing them back into the fold... as brainwashed spies that he used as necessary. Sometimes, they managed to 'escape' themselves. Whatever the reason was, they returned and kept their eyes on things Snape couldn't wholly focus on. Or... to take the fall for mistakes resulting from his machinations, putting the blame on the unfortunate fellows.

"I assume they are targets we ought to hit?"

"Of course!" Voldemort laughed, smiling from ear to ear. "Bellatrix has verified the information; it is accurate. These are two prison camps..."

"Are we going to... rescue failures?"

"No." He answered coldly. "We are going to flush high-ranking Order members out."

"I am not following, My Lord." Snape said honestly, looking at him and waiting for an explanation.

"We will go in and murder everybody. Guards, prisoners, dogs. Everything that has a life will be reaped. We won't leave plants behind because we will burn both places down."

"..."

"Such thing is what these righteous clowns can't allow, or their pride will take a hit!" He continued, his eyes red as blood, glowing like a monster's hungry gaze, "If they do, then our side will have a boost in efficiency because if they let themselves be captured... it will just mean they will die the same."

"Are we... sure that they... will come?" Snape asked after recollecting his thoughts, feeling his mouth to be as dry as the Sahara.

"They will come. Any who arrives, kill them too. There is nothing to do at these two places; just kill, kill, and kill. Easy, got it?"

"Yes."

"Very good! I will lead one group; you will lead the others. I will send you the names of the soldiers you will take with you—only retreat after every prisoner has died."

"What if-" Snape wanted to ask, but Voldemort raised a hand, stopping him from continuing.

"I said, only leave after every prisoner died and their corpses are burning."

"Yes... My Lord."

"Go now... start preparing... We will act soon. Very soon..."