Dolohov could barely contain his excitement as he began preparing the ritual to forge a new body for Voldemort. The prospect alone filled him with pride. He would be the Death Eater who personally restored the Dark Lord to power. Such an achievement would secure his place among Voldemort's most trusted followers forever.
Nearby, Wilkes held the skull containing Voldemort's soul and watched with poorly concealed envy. He wished he had been given the honor instead. For any Death Eater, participating in the Dark Lord's resurrection was the greatest privilege imaginable.
Five hours later, everything fell apart.
At the most critical stage of the ritual, the process collapsed completely.
The cauldron erupted with sparks before the contents turned into a foul-smelling sludge. Every precious ingredient had been wasted.
Dolohov's excitement vanished instantly.
His face turned deathly pale.
He couldn't understand what had happened.
Every step had been followed exactly as described in the ancient alchemical text. Every measurement had been precise. Every incantation had been performed correctly.
Yet the ritual had still failed.
Naturally, success had never been possible.
The Philosopher's Stone at the center of the ritual was a counterfeit.
The problem had remained hidden because the fake stone had not yet been used in any critical process. Now that the resurrection ritual depended on its power, the flaw was exposed immediately.
A fake was still a fake.
No matter how convincing the imitation appeared, it could never replace the genuine artifact.
"L-Lord..."
Dolohov's voice trembled.
He stared nervously at the skull resting nearby.
"It's fine. I'll give you another chance."
Voldemort sounded disappointed, but not angry.
At least not yet.
His soul was still too weak.
The only reason he maintained influence in the outside world was through Wilkes and Dolohov. Every other useful servant had either been imprisoned, killed, or cut off from contact.
Killing his remaining followers over a failed ritual would accomplish nothing.
Besides, neither Wilkes nor Dolohov was a true alchemist. Their talents lay in Dark Magic rather than potion-making or ritual crafting.
Failure was understandable.
"Thank you for your mercy, my Lord. I won't fail again!"
Desperate to redeem himself, Dolohov immediately emptied the ruined contents of the cauldron and started over.
This time he worked even more carefully.
Every ingredient was measured twice.
Every movement was deliberate.
Every instruction from the ancient text was followed to the letter.
Six hours later, the ritual failed again.
The result was even worse than before.
Dolohov stared blankly at the ruined mixture.
Wilkes stood nearby with bloodshot eyes.
Both men were exhausted.
Sweat rolled down their foreheads in streams.
Even the green flames burning within Voldemort's skull flickered with unmistakable anger.
At that moment, Wilkes silently thanked every force in existence that he had not been chosen for the task.
He could already imagine what kind of punishment awaited Dolohov after Voldemort regained a body.
Eleven straight hours.
Eleven hours of effort.
Eleven hours of tension.
And all they had produced were two cauldrons full of useless waste.
"You incompetent fools!"
Voldemort's furious roar echoed throughout the basement.
"Are you trying to waste every ingredient meant for my resurrection? Idiot! Move aside and let Wilkes try!"
Dolohov looked as though someone had stripped every feather from a duck.
Without argument, he exchanged places with Wilkes and took custody of the skull.
Wilkes immediately regretted existing.
During their school years, Dolohov's academic performance had always been superior. That was one of the reasons Voldemort had chosen him for the task in the first place.
If Dolohov couldn't do it, how could Wilkes possibly succeed?
The pressure nearly made him sick.
Unfortunately, refusing Voldemort was not an option.
No Death Eater dared disobey the Dark Lord.
Swallowing hard, Wilkes approached the cauldron and emptied the ruined contents.
Then he began the process from the beginning.
Meanwhile, Dolohov secretly hoped for failure.
Not because he wanted Voldemort to remain trapped.
Not because he wanted Wilkes to suffer.
But because another failure would prove he wasn't uniquely incompetent.
If Wilkes succeeded immediately after taking over, Dolohov's standing among the Death Eaters would be ruined forever.
Fortunately for his pride, Wilkes performed even worse.
His nerves betrayed him.
Halfway through the ritual, he made a mistake that completely destroyed the mixture before it even reached the stage where the Philosopher's Stone would be used.
The entire cauldron was ruined.
Wilkes slowly turned toward the skull.
The faint green light inside Voldemort's eye sockets had become something far more terrifying.
The Dark Lord sounded frighteningly calm.
"Continue."
Those single words chilled both men.
This was the final batch of ingredients.
The last chance.
Even Voldemort had not anticipated such difficulty in recreating his body.
Three consecutive failures.
Three.
Now all of their hopes rested on the final set of materials.
Hours later, the last attempt ended exactly like the others.
Failure.
The final cauldron was ruined.
Silence filled the basement.
Then Voldemort exploded.
"You two worthless idiots! If Severus were here, he would have succeeded on the first attempt!"
The furious outburst startled both Death Eaters.
Dolohov cautiously lowered his head.
"My Lord... Severus betrayed us. He's Dumbledore's lapdog now."
The room became quiet again.
Voldemort did not respond.
Only he knew the truth.
Severus Snape had originally been his spy within Dumbledore's inner circle. For years, valuable intelligence had reached him through Severus.
Even before his fall at Godric's Hollow, Voldemort had trusted Snape's reports.
But revealing that fact now would expose secrets better left hidden.
So he remained silent.
Finally, he spoke again.
"Enough. Gather more materials. We will continue the resurrection ritual."
"Yes, my Lord."
Neither Death Eater hesitated.
Dolohov carefully returned the skull to its place atop the fireplace.
Then he and Wilkes hurried out of the room.
Neither wanted to remain near an enraged Voldemort any longer than necessary.
It was simply too dangerous.
As they traveled through Knockturn Alley searching for additional ingredients, Dolohov remained completely confused.
"How could it fail?" he muttered repeatedly. "Everything was done correctly."
No answer came.
After all, neither he nor Wilkes had the slightest idea that Liam had already switched the Philosopher's Stone.
The counterfeit they had purchased from Borgin had been expensive enough to fool nearly anyone.
Even Dumbledore might not notice the difference without close examination.
Compared to the Headmaster, Wilkes and Dolohov were hardly experts.
Neither of them realized they had risked everything for a worthless fake.
Several days later, Dumbledore finally completed the Ministry's investigation and returned to Hogwarts.
At the same time, Liam accompanied Kingsley Shacklebolt to the Ministry of Magic, where he was scheduled to appear before the Wizengamot regarding the deaths he had caused during the recent attack.
....
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