In the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, Pillar Voldemort sat comfortably in the Headmaster's chair, looking down at his pieces.
Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Hermione, Ron, and the others glared at Voldemort, while the Death Eaters he had brought with him grinned back at their dirty looks.
And rightfully so.
Dumbledore was already gone.
Madam Villanelle, the only one who could have temporarily stopped his plans, was injured so badly that it would take days, if not weeks, to recover, and even longer to return to her prime.
Her body and her magic hadn't taken the worst of the hit, though, Voldemort knew.
Villanelle's mind had suffered the most—a blow so deep that her being a reincarnated Biblical Witch couldn't fix it.
She was the main reason the Bubble had lost a Unique Artifact: Excalibur.
If Voldemort had to guess, the real reason Villanelle was still lying in an infirmary bed had less to do with her wounds and more to do with the Witch of Endor simply giving up on her, or worse...
At any other time, he would have taken advantage of that right away.
Right now, though, he had to act as the Lord of the Pillars.
It sounded good.
It sounded delicious.
Still, Voldemort didn't let himself get carried away by the thrill of the title. Not yet.
As much as he loved ruling an entire timeline, he knew he had to win the war against the Mirrors first.
If he failed, his entire existence would be wiped out.
So Voldemort let Dumbledore's loyal followers glare at him all they wanted.
Let them stay loyal to a ghost, he thought. At the end of the day, they must answer to me anyway.
"The house-elves?" Voldemort asked, looking at Harry.
Grinding his teeth, the middle-aged Harry took a deep breath. "They are patrolling the castle," he reported. "Any sign of—"
"My Lord!" Bellatrix's sharp voice cut through the room. "Patrolling the castle, my Lord!"
Voldemort held up a hand, amused. "Let it be, Bellatrix," he said with a faint smirk. "Please continue, Harry."
Harry balled his hands into tight fists.
From behind him, Ginny placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and squeezed gently.
Harry let out a tired breath. "Any sign of Apparition or Disapparition will be met with an instant response," he went on. "Past them, we've stationed all the magical creatures as well. The castle is locked down, both from the outside and the inside."
Voldemort nodded.
Guarding the castle from the inside was an absolute must.
He knew the Mirror Dumbledore — or Lord Black Phoenix, as he called himself — was linked to a Half-Deep One and could use the magical connection between the two Hogwarts to appear right inside these walls.
In fact, Voldemort had warned Villanelle against copying Hogwarts in the first place.
The fool had gone ahead with the idea anyway, calling it a tribute to the fallen Dumbledore.
It didn't matter now.
Voldemort turned his gaze toward Darth Kars — the useless outsider.
"The castle is anchored around the Mirror Sirius Black," the Lord of the Pillars said. "That anchor lets the Pillar Timeline stretch its protection over us through Limbo. But if a Mirror steps inside, it's the same as the Mirror Timeline showing up here, too. On its own, that Timeline can't do much, but… She can hide an intruder completely from your senses."
Darth Kars, towering like a bronze giant among others, stared back with glowing red eyes.
Voldemort almost sneered.
Without the weapon the outsider had brought with him, he was only half the threat he used to be.
Taking the hint, Darth Kars blinked out of existence, heading outside to join the creatures where he belonged.
For a Mirror, the only real way to break in was from the inside, and Darth Kars was useless against that kind of magic.
Still, if Contestants, like that girl from the Space, tried to attack from the front gates, the Sith could at least slow them down.
That didn't fix the castle's biggest blind spot, though.
"Snape," Voldemort ordered. "Spread a full battalion through the corridors. Use the ghosts, too. Search all the secret paths and hidden rooms. Now."
Without a word or a nod, Snape turned on his heel to leave.
"Wait!" Voldemort hissed, making Dumbledore's old follower freeze and glance back. "Start with the Room of Requirement."
Snape nodded once.
The crowd parted as he strode toward the heavy oak door.
Before he could reach it, the door burst open on its own.
"Let me go!" a young girl's voice echoed off the stone walls. "I said let me go, you murderer!"
Voldemort narrowed his eyes as Snape stepped aside.
Minerva McGonagall stepped into the room, holding a young girl by the collar of her shirt and dragging her across the stone floor.
Voldemort turned his gaze toward the adult Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, who was staring at her younger self with wide eyes.
"… Miss Granger," Voldemort said, rising slowly from his chair. "We were just talking about you."
The young girl gasped in pain as McGonagall shoved her forward onto the floor.
The older Hermione stepped forward instinctively, but Ron shoved an arm out, holding his wife back from doing something reckless.
Voldemort glided around the desk and stood over the girl, her eyes red with tears and burning with pure hatred as she glared up at him.
Slowly, the Elder Wand slid into his hand.
He didn't strike her down yet.
With a flick of his wrist, Voldemort lifted the girl into the air, bringing her face level with his own. "How you got in, I will find out later," he hissed, after failing to infiltrate her mind. "For now, if you want to stay alive, tell me who brought you here."
The girl clamped her jaw shut, refusing to speak.
Good.
He had expected nothing less.
"Crucio!" Voldemort whispered.
Hermione's screams tore through the office, her voice cracking from the strain until blood showed at the corners of her mouth, staining her shirt collar.
"Let's try that again," Voldemort said, smiling coldly. "Who…"
"Yellow…" Hermione sobbed, choking on her tears. "I came with… the Yellow Warlock!"
Before anyone in the room, including Voldemort, could even process what she had said—
—the entire castle shook with a deafening BOOM!