LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 86: C086 - Mind Reap & Politics
Three days before the New Years, I decided to finally end one of Voldemort's horcrux soul shards for good. The one from the diadem that I had placed inside the rat. The first horcrux I had ever dealt with.
Since the founder's consciousness had fully cleansed and reworked the diadem for me, I decided to wear it for my plans on this day. It helped immensely with mental clarity and speed of thought. Just what I needed as I decided to rip knowledge from Rat Lord Voldemort's hopefully broken mind.
Standing inside the basement of my shack, I gave Patrick a last look after another Legilimency probe told me there were no thoughts left in the mind of the rat and cast the mind reaping spell I had learned from the Black library.
"Sagacita Emeto," I cast in full concentration and was immediately assaulted by a heavy pressure on my mind. No warnings in the books and no shoring up of my Occlumency defenses had prepared me for what I felt at this point.
It was like a humongous boulder was placed on my mind and it tried to fit through a hole several dimensions too small. But gravity was trying to force the metaphorical mountain of knowledge and experiences into a supposed opening relentlessly, no matter how stubborn, as the stolen mind pieces kept gaining weight.
With closed eyes, I paid no attention to whatever happened to the rat. Patrick had his orders and I sufficiently prepared for any possible escape plans the soul piece of Voldemort might have had.
Minutes that felt like hours passed as I slowly gained more and more pieces of information about the topic I decided to reap from the rat: 'counter curses'. Ladies Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had told me several times how bad of an idea it was to integrate too much of another person so I decided to narrow down my initial choice of 'curses' even further. It was also why I decided to change around the order of the mind reap as well. Originally, I had planned to use the spell on the seemingly weakest of the soul shards: the first one Riddle made and bound to the diary that Malfoy had gifted me in his hubris.
Rowena Ravenclaw, however, had pointed out a fatal flaw in my thinking anyway. As the first soul shard, it might contain the least knowledge and 'personality' to influence me. But it was still not to be underestimated, after all it came from the most complete soul. It had a higher chance to become my biggest obstacle as it was likely the most sane and therefore most cunning. The only circumstance in my favor was its lacking options due to inexperience.
As a haphazard assortment of details, some small, some linked to more intricate knowledge that I lacked, was filling my head, I relived disjointed fragments of Tom Riddle's experiences. I saw faces, some very clearly, some faint or even unrecognizable. I was freshly graduated Tom as he worked for Borgin & Burke's, handling curious and dangerous items and secretly stealing books for me to read in my off-time. I broke into mausoleums and forgotten crypts, looted abandoned magical homes in England, then Europe and later even Africa and Asia. I had followers at my feet offering me rare and even banned texts from their own family archives and libraries.
Until I snapped back into reality with cold, empty eyes.
"Master?" Patrick called out with a guarded expression.
I stood up from my slumped down position, a pillow under me courtesy of my elf, and regarded the rat with a dismissive sneer. Pointing my wand at it, I opened the cage with a flick and cast 'Incendio' at the unmoving animal before activating a rune trap that would catch Voldemort's soul shard if it still had the power and ability to seek out another host.
But nothing of the sort happened. My mind reap destroyed the last of Tom Riddle inside the critter despite all its careful planning. I had felt it for the shortest moment as our minds were connected. Just as the book from the Black library had described, the soul collapsed into itself after the hole I ripped into its mind, its memories. Or I assumed it did because I could only vaguely feel something entirely ethereal happening in front of me. A mysterious magical feeling. As broken as the soul already was, it happened almost instantly.
"I will have to meditate and sort my thoughts. Unless our enemies find us or my lawyers contact me with urgent matters, don't come to my bedroom. I have enough food and drink in my pouch," I told Patrick and apparated back into the mansion without waiting for an answer.
Once I arrived in my bedroom, I immediately staggered and fell to my knees. Only an arm of mine catching the bed stopped me from fully meeting the floor. It caught me by surprise because I didn't move my arm to catch me, my limbs felt foreign to me.
"Fuck," I muttered as exhaustion tried to claim me. With a last urgent thought, I took a dreamless sleep potion that I had prepared for just this moment to counter any potential influence the remaining mind of Voldemort tried to exert, downed it in one go and collapsed onto my bed.
The mental drain of the mind reap spell was too much, I fell asleep instantly.
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Almost at noon the next day, I stirred with a groan escaping my lips.
"My inexperience with the mind arts is glaringly obvious. The book did the dangers of the spell no justice," I muttered despite myself. Shaking my head, I continued in thought, 'If I wasn't a Natural Occlumens taught by a millenia old hat, I would have been even worse off. The mind reap came with way too many experiences of Tom. I'll definitely need to figure out how to filter them out even more if I want to reap the knowledge of another soul shard.'
A small ruthless glint flashed in my eyes as I brought my hands up to my head to grasp Ravenclaw's diadem. I hadn't had the presence of mind to take it off before falling asleep.
'At least I learned exactly how to get rid of the spells Riddle had put on this…'
With a shake of my head, I ate something and sat on my bed with crossed legs.
I stayed like that for hours, only stopping my concentrated efforts to relieve myself or fill my stomach. Hours turned into two days as I tried my best to get rid of Voldemort's remnants in my mind and sort my newfound knowledge.
"Patrick," I called during the afternoon.
My elf appeared almost instantly and hawkishly watched me as he asked, "Yes, master?"
"It took a bigger toll than expected, but less than my worst fears suspected," I reassured. "What have I missed?"
"Mister Limm reached out yesterday with owl mail and your little mirror keeps shaking," Patrick replied succinctly and smilingly, apparently glad to see my current state.
"What did Limm's letter say?"
"The goblins have an answer, but you better read it yourself," my elf answered with a small obviously displeased frown cluing me in on the nature of the goblin's decision.
"Thank you. Have Verdandi make me a pizza with extra jalapeno please and bring me the mirror," I instructed and stretched myself as I walked to my wardrobe. "Please fill a hot bath."
Using 'Scourgify' and another low-powered cleaning spell for personal hygiene on myself before stepping into the waters that Patrick had prepared for me, I relaxed into the bathtub.
I felt like a new person in no time before I took the mirror Patrick had given me into my hand and whispered, "Deathly Hallows."
"Talion," the frowning Gellert almost spat when the man appeared in the mirror instantly. "How nice of you to grant me this audience."
"Just because you have nothing better to do in your self-imposed exile doesn't mean that I don't have my own plans and live at your whimsy," I countered with deeply furrowed brows.
"And yet you seem to be enjoying life as you take a bubble bath in some mansion. Are you mocking me and my living standards?"
"You knew if I was mocking you," I pointed out with a disdainful sneer he had helped me perfect in an earlier call before winter had started. "Now tell me what had you trying to reach out to me so persistently."
"Can't I try to give my favorite pupil some glad Yule greetings?"
"You could, but you wouldn't," I replied instantly, my sneer deepening.
"Well, we will never know, brat, because you did not answer my call," Gellert rebuked with a mocking expression of his own. "Tell me how your study of fire spells is going. I had plans to tell you about the 'Protego Diabolica' spell the last few days, but I changed my mind. It's on you to change it again."
I narrowed my eyes. I knew for sure that Grindelwald would not teach me one of his most fearsome signature spells. He was taunting me and not for the first time. I had shown my hand in our third ever call and let it slip that I would love to learn the spell he had used to burn down Paris and later on London.
I knew the words, of course, but I would never try to cast this spell without some guidance lest I lose control and die in a county-wide fire due to magical exhaustion.
And I just couldn't figure out why he tried taunting me in this fashion. Messing with me was his style, but not like this. It was not in his nature to dangle a carrot in front of me during our talks.
"Well, I managed to learn the fire spirit charm you last told me about to a satisfactory degree. Just like you pointed out, the spell gains a certain degree of intelligence with the correct intent. I just didn't expect that it would be empowered by mischief more than any other emotion or mindset," I began to explain as I decided to ignore the obvious trap that the dark lord had laid for me.
Yet, I still also noticed that it was much harder to fight off my irritation for getting challenged like this. Thankfully, I was able to reign it in thanks to my Occlumency.
I'd have to space out the mind reapings further than I had planned or hoped. Or take even less from the horcruxes after thinking about how to perfect the 'Sagacita Emeto' spell some more.
"You're lost in thought," Grindelwald pointed out as he studied my expression with narrowed eyes. "In any case. How did you like my present?"
"Your present?"
"So you hadn't noticed. You must have truly been busy these days. Your gift from the Department of Magical Games and Sports is from me," Grindelwald revealed with an impish grin.
Thinking about the many presents I had opened, I pondered out loud, "They gave me a wind-up music box that showed a miniature me winning a wizarding duel?"
Grindelwald inside the mirror shook his head and explained, "It has a false bottom. You'll find a book I had my acquaintance acquire for you specifically inside."
"Patrick," I called out. Once he was in the room, I ordered him to bring me the music box as I wandlessly made the handheld mirror float in place.
It wouldn't hold on for long and only worked because the mirror weighed next to nothing, but it was a genuine achievement and testament to my hard work over the course of the last few months. And while the diadem helped immensely in keeping such a spell up, I knew that most of it came from me learning 'magic' as it was used by middle-eastern magicals who used their magical foci more as extensions of their own magic instead of as conduits for spells. This very minor telepathy was the only thing I was able to learn since getting the book from the hag in Leeds.
I wound up the mechanism of the box Patrick had given me, saw mini-me pop out to cast a spell at a nondescript opponent to the tunes of a piano piece and looked deeper into the box. Grindelwald watched me with no small amount of amusement the entire time.
Once I got the false bottom to open, a giant tome splashed into the bathtub like a huge metal anchor of a cruise ship slamming into the sea. My annoyance and confusion was only cut short by Grindelwald's grating laugh echoing through my giant bathroom. Immediately, the spell holding the mirror in place stopped and made the enchanted item clatter onto the floor.
Grindelwald did not stop laughing, however.
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Waving goodbye to my great-aunt Bella Farley after spending a nice lunch with her in a muggle restaurant at her own insistence after she took a liking to the wine I had gifted her for Christmas last year, I made my way to 'Grundig, Smith & Tonks', the law firm where my legal representatives Tonks and Limm worked.
Once the ancient crone working as a secretary there showed me to Limm's shoebox of an office, I looked at my lawyer.
"You need a new office," I observed out loud with no small amount of disdain.
"I do. It doesn't properly represent my fire and sheer talent," Limm agreed.
I narrowed my eyes a little before offering, "Depending on how today goes, I'll put in a good word for you. You do most of the work for me while Ted is the public face of my legal team so maybe the named partners don't recognize your worth. Forget it, I'll recommend it to Ted anyway."
Limm gave me a solemn nod before handing me a file with many highlighted sentences.
"The goblins insist that the damages after the burn must be paid by wizards. They handed the full autonomy of who that is to the ministry and we have both seen Fudge's order," Limm began and I nodded.
"Now that we had it halted, we merely bought time, of course. But the goblins are fighting back on their end. They are adamant that the freeze will not apply to them because they want their money. Fudge's order is all they need and their demands for interest rates are famously cutthroat."
"And they do not care about losing the Gamp family vaults and the Macnair vault and all the bad publicity it will bring them once a lord withdraws from their services?"
"Gougefist said, and I am quoting directly, 'The whelp will come to regret his decision. Nobody stands against Gringotts.'"
I closed my eyes for a short moment before nodding.
"In that case I will make good on my promise. I'll have my elves empty the vaults. Please draw up the needed termination notices for the contracts," I instructed but Limm gave me a solemn look and handed a stack of parchments to me.
"I feared you would say that, here," the young lawyer offered with a very thin, very forced smile on his face as I leafed through the pages.
"Anything I should know? Fees they will try to wrestle from me? Instructions I should leave for my elves so that they will not be hindered?"
Limm handed me another parchment and said, "I took the liberty of highlighting it all."
Briefly flying over the bullet points, I asked, "Closing a vault costs eleven galleons? 'Breach of contract' leads to fees up to seven hundred seventy-seven galleons and thirteen knuts? In that case I'll just leave them as is, empty, and stop paying for their upkeep and other related services. Let's see who caves first. I highly doubt it will be me."
"Talion, the ministry will not-"
I held up my hand.
"I told those two miscreants in the hearing room that it was their last chance to rectify the situation. That I would do what I thought is right even if it starts another war with the goblins. I could not have been more candid. I will not yield."
"I feared that, too. Please turn the page," Limm breathed out with a reluctant sigh.
On the back of the parchment with the things to keep in mind if I wanted to withdraw from the services of Gringotts was a single name.
"Who is this?"
"The goblin who was the one to forge your grandfather's signature on the extended lease with Gruff. Well, he is a half-goblin according to the one who sold me this information. Three-quarters, really. But you don't lose that mark on your family name easily in goblin society," Limm explained with a stony expression.
"Thank you," I accepted with a nod and stood up. "Brightcleave? Doesn't sound very bright to me…"
"One more thing, Talion," Limm called out before I could open the door.
"Yes?"
"Lord Ogden told Ted he was approached by another Lord of the Grey faction. They asked what it would take to stop shielding you, but Lord Ogden told them to piss off. Or so Ted said. The old grump didn't tell Ted who it was, though. To shield you from politics for just a little while longer. Ted got him to promise to give you a full account in his will at the very least."
I looked at the pudgy law wizard still seated behind his busy-looking desk for a while before giving him a nod.
"Thanks for the heads-up."
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[POV 3rd person, Fudge's office]
A glass tumbler smashed into the wall opposite the minister's grand desk. The drink was just as ruined as the mood inside the office.
"This is not how you do politics! He was supposed to either pay this paltry sum and accept reality or come to me so that he would owe me a small favor for me to make it go away!" Fudge screeched angrily.
"Sir, I'm afraid it's worse," his new undersecretary who replaced Umbridge hurriedly added, lest his boss loses sight of what is truly going on. "If he does indeed start a conflict with the goblins over this as my father's office suspects they will, the press will be a nightmare. Lord Gamp is young and seen positively. If Rita Skeeter writes the wrong article, the blame will be firmly put on you, losing you any chance at reelection. Miss Skeeter already picked his side more than twice in her articles. It seems she receives positive feedback from her loyal readers regarding the boy. He is rather easy on the eyes and powerful - both in name and in magic. Public opinion, if not properly handled, sways in his support."
Fudge regarded the middle-aged man with gritted teeth for a while, thinking about scolding the man for raining such praise on an upstart brat lucky to inherit such an honored title and ascending to Lordship like a bumbling buffoon. But he chose differently as he slumped into his luxurious leather chair and rapped his fingers on the desk, deep in thought.
"Can we pay the goblins from the ministry's coffers to make this go away?"
His assistant shook his head and explained, "We could, but we shouldn't. It will send the wrong signal to Lord Gamp. The goblins might accept the money easily no matter who it came from, but they will extort even bigger sums from us now that we appear to have an unsteady position."
"That damned brat! I purposefully had you negotiate a meager sum with those greedy creatures to merely test his political standing! How dare he flip the entire table instead of sitting at it like us civilized folk! I just wanted to see how agreeable he would be to vote for leniency in the upcoming trials!"
Fudge took out another glass from a hidden compartment at his desk and filled it with another two fingers of firewhiskey. Sipping it with a thoughtful expression, he instructed, "Your father was the one who ultimately brought this order to my table. Have him work out solutions that will end in us not starting a war with the goblins. It will be on his head, too, as the Department Head of Economic Relations."
His new assistant gave a shallow bow and turned to leave the office.
"One more thing, Mister Harriet," the minister called out before the man could leave his office. "Tell Amelia that her request for additional budget to man the security of the holding cells is denied. It was her who decided to create such a circus in our dungeons here at the ministry. Have her wrestle the clowns. She should be glad I can't slash her funding even more with the press as it is at the moment."
Having closed the door, the assistant breathed out a stale breath he had been holding. Walking in the direction of his father's office, he muttered, "I should have never allowed my father to throw my hat into the ring. I always knew he liked my brother better than me. Indeed, what a clown show…"