Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing but the original characters I make.
Chapter 133: Vaelen
Voldemort was not in a good condition. In fact, this was the worst he had felt since the night he lost his body. His anger kept building, his nerves kept tightening and for the first time in a long while, he felt the pressure of losing control. Many of his supporters had fallen, some had been captured, and others had simply disappeared out of fear. His inner circle was shrinking, his influence was weakening and the wizarding world was no longer trembling at the mention of his name like before.
The first people who fell were Corban Yaxley and several Death Eaters working inside the Ministry. Their death caused a huge blow to his network because these were the people who handled his information, passed orders and protected his movements. Once they were gone, everything started collapsing faster than he expected.
Then came the destruction of the Hall of Prophecy. Voldemort still felt a cold fury whenever he thought about it. The entire section had been blown apart, and every prophecy was gone. Everything he planned for years vanished just like that. Because of the person who mimicked his face and exposed him, his cover was completely blown. There was no more secrecy. No more hiding. The world now knew he had returned, and the Ministry was forced to admit it.
But the worst part was not the exposure.
The worst part was that Amelia Bones had become the new Minister of Magic.
He had underestimated her severely. Voldemort had planned for her to die, planned for her to fall like the others, but she survived. And she survived because of Dudley Dursley, a boy Voldemort never took seriously. A boy he never bothered to watch and only recently he take a look at him after that boy sent Patronus everyday. Yet that same boy intervened during the assassination attempt and killed several members of Voldemort Death Eaters. After that, things spiraled even more out of control.
Amelia Bones was now in full power, and instead of hiding like Fudge, she struck back hard. Very hard.
Many of Voldemort Death Eaters were dragged out of their hiding places. Some were captured on the street. Some were found in safe houses. Some surrendered after being forcefully given Veritaserum. Once the potion was used, they confessed everything, names, locations, allies, crimes, and secrets. Voldemort lost more information in one week than the Order of the Phoenix took from him in years.
Most of his inner circle was gone. Others were dead. Dudley Dursley, someone who should have been insignificant, had killed more Death Eaters than the Auror Office in the last month. It was humiliating. It was insulting. It made Voldemort furious beyond words.
He was now in a worse position than anyone realized. No money. No strong army. No loyal network. And, for the first time, not only Dumbledore was a threat, Dudley Dursley had become a danger that Voldemort did not know how to handle. A wildcard he never predicted.
Weeks passed. Voldemort tried to reorganize what was left of his followers, but every day the situation became worse. Rumors spread even among his own ranks, doubts appeared.
Finally, out of desperation, Voldemort ordered multiple attacks.
Three groups. Three different locations. A coordinated strike meant to remind the wizarding world that he was still powerful. He wanted terror. He wanted chaos. He wanted people to scream his name again.
Two raids were successful. They spread fear, injured civilians, and caused enough destruction to make the Prophet write headlines again.
But the third raid failed miserably.
And not because of Aurors.
Not because of the Order.
Not because of Dumbledore.
But because of a muggleborn. A child. A boy who was not even eleven years old.
This news spread faster than fire. Even the newspapers published it on the front page. Voldemort was furious. His rage filled the entire room, and none of the remaining Death Eaters dared to speak. No one even breathed loudly.
Being defeated by a child?
A muggleborn child?
This humiliation cut deeper than any wound he had ever suffered.
So Voldemort stopped focusing on increasing his Death Eater army. At this point, he already knew that gathering more followers was pointless. Too many had died, too many had been captured, and too many had turned coward after Amelia Bones took control. Instead of wasting time on unreliable people, he returned to something he should have focused on from the beginning... Dark Magic.
Real Dark Magic.
He isolated himself, locked himself inside abandoned ruins, and surrounded the place with wards so complex that even Dumbledore would need days to break them. And there, in the silence of cold stone, he began to experiment. He pushed deeper into forbidden spells, darker rituals, and ancient grimoires that even Dark Wizards in the past refused to touch.
It was during this time that Voldemort unexpectedly formed a strange relationship with the Dementors, he no longer command and controlling them. But almost like a mutual… curiosity. They began to linger near him, drawn not just by his lack of happiness but by something else... something in his magic that resonated with them. And through communication that was more instinct than language, Voldemort learned a truth that even he had never known before.
Dementors were not native to the wizarding world.
They came from the Dark Dimension.
In the 15th century, there was a Dark Wizard named Ekrizdis, a man so twisted and brilliant that history erased almost everything about him. Ekrizdis was the one who pulled the Dementors into this world. In their original dimension there was a place called Entrophy, a region where all emotions were consumed and broken down. Dementors were not hunters there. They were not feared. They were simply… cleaners. Their purpose was to absorb happiness, hope, and positive energy to maintain balance in the Dark Dimension.
But Entrophy had worse beings. Far worse. And the Dementors, considered low-ranking there, were treated almost like slaves.
So when Ekrizdis pulled them into this dimension, they agreed eagerly. Here, they were powerful. Here, they were feared. Here, they were no longer the lowest in the hierarchy.
This revelation fascinated Voldemort. It awakened a greed inside him that had been silent for years. If Dementors were considered weak in their original dimension, then what else existed there? What creatures could be even darker? Even more powerful?
So Voldemort searched. For months he studied Ekrizdis work, deciphering notes written in dead languages and decoding runes that ripped the mind apart if read incorrectly. And after many failures, he succeeded.
He opened a portal to the Dark Dimension
What greeted him was not silence, nor cold wind, but presence, ancient, terrifying, overwhelming. That was the pressure when a wizards living in Dark Dimension.
He spend more time in there to know each species living there and he found a species named Vaelen.
Even Voldemort, who had mastered countless Dark Arts, felt sweat forming on his palms just by standing near it. Vaelen were Arch Mages of the Dark Dimension, creatures who loves Dark magic itself. They were bloodthirsty, cruel, and delighted in toruture. But they also possessed something that Voldemort desperately wanted.
Power. If a wizard managed to form a contract with a Vaelen, they could borrow its energy. And with that energy came a terrifying ability... using the bodies of the dead as weapons. Not resurrection, not bringing souls back, that thing is impossible, but animating corpses infused with Vaelen essence. Meaning Voldemort could turn his fallen Death Eaters into a new army and he can control them like a zombie, the zombie who can use magic at full power.
But forming a contract with a Vaelen was not easy. It demanded sacrifice. It demanded loyalty. And most of all, it demanded that Voldemort prove he was worthy.
P/S: Steve Roger and Dudley with two overpowered system need some overpowered enemies too.
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