Lord Voldemort glided into the center of the Atrium, his red eyes taking in the scene of his followers' utter defeat with a chilling, reptilian calm. The air grew heavy, thick with a palpable aura of ancient, malevolent power. The Ministry officials, including Fudge, were frozen in a state of pure, abject terror.
He ignored the captured Death Eaters. He ignored the Aurors. He ignored Harry. His burning, crimson gaze settled directly on the one person who was still standing tall, her wand held steady over his defeated lieutenant. He looked at Ariana.
A slow, lipless smile stretched across his snake-like face. It was not a smile of mirth, but of cold, reptilian appreciation.
"Remarkable," Voldemort hissed, his voice high, clear, and carrying to every corner of the silent, terrified hall. "Truly remarkable. To dismantle my finest soldiers with such… efficiency. I have been watching your progress this year, little Dumbledore. Your name is a curious irony, so I have heard, but your power… your power is undeniable."
He took a step closer, his presence a wave of pure intimidation. But Ariana did not flinch. She met his gaze with her own cool, analytical one.
"You have the mind of a strategist," Voldemort continued, his voice like the slithering of a snake over cold stone. "You see the world not as it is, but as a series of problems to be solved. You do not fight with foolish, sentimental emotions like love or loyalty. You are, in your own way, a purer magician than even Dumbledore."
He extended a long, pale, spider-like hand towards her. "This is a waste of your talent," he hissed, gesturing to the cowering Ministry officials and the Order members. "You are aligned with fools, sentimentalists, and bureaucratic cowards. They will hold you back, chain your potential. They do not understand true power."
"Join me, Ariana," he said, the offer a venomous temptation. "The daughter of the Maledictus and the Obscurial who also once served a dark lord. A true heir to a lineage of profound, untamed magic. With your mind and my power, we would be unstoppable. We would not just rule this pathetic world; we would remake it, redesign it, into a logical, orderly system, free from the chaotic filth of Mudbloods and Muggles. I do not offer you servitude. I offer you a partnership. A seat at my right hand, as the architect of my new world."
It was the ultimate temptation, an appeal not to her fear or ambition, but to her very nature—her love of logic, of order, of efficient systems.
For a long moment, Ariana was silent. She looked at Voldemort's burning red eyes, at his offer of a perfectly ordered, ruthless world. Then, her gaze flickered to Harry, standing behind Dumbledore, terrified but defiant. To Hermione and the DA, watching from the sidelines, their faces pale with fear for her. To the memory of the Longbottoms, their minds shattered by the very chaos he promised to eliminate.
A small, cold smile touched her lips.
"Your offer is based on a flawed premise, Tom," she said, her voice clear and calm, using his given name with a deliberate, dismissive intimacy that made him flinch. "You assume that order achieved through tyranny is superior to order achieved through consent. You assume that eliminating variables—Muggles, Muggle-borns—is a more efficient path to power than understanding and integrating them. Your logic is incomplete. Your system is inefficient. I am not interested in your partnership."
Voldemort's lipless mouth tightened into a furious snarl. Her rejection, so calm, so analytical, was a greater insult than any curse.
"So be it, little fool," he hissed.
But before he could raise his wand, Dumbledore moved. "It is I you want, Tom," he said, stepping forward, his own wand now alight with a brilliant, white fire. "Let the children go."
What followed was a duel of titans. The Atrium became a storm of unimaginable magic.
Dumbledore was a force of nature, his spells like golden griffins and shimmering shields.
Voldemort was a whirlwind of pure, dark destruction, his curses the colour of poison and death. The Fountain of Magical Brethren was ripped from its foundations, the golden statues animating to fight on Dumbledore's behalf. The floor cracked, the air screamed with the force of their colliding wills.
Ariana did not intervene. This was not a battle for her input, a clash of two of the most powerful and experienced wizards in history. Her role was here was not to fight, but to protect. She maintained her position, a silent, watchful guardian ensuring the battle did not spill over towards her friends.
Finally, seeing that he could not win a prolonged duel against Dumbledore, especially with Aurors and the Order closing in, Voldemort made his decision. He apparated into the fountain, creating a massive wave of blasted dark magic as a diversion, and with a final, hateful glare, he Disapparated with a sharp crack, taking the bound form of Bellatrix with him.
He was gone.
Silence descended upon the wrecked Atrium. And then, the first Floo connection activated. Cornelius Fudge, who had been hiding behind a pillar, saw the skeletal, white face of Voldemort just before he vanished. The truth, undeniable and terrifying, had finally smashed through his wall of denial. He stood there, trembling, his face the colour of curdled milk.
Dumbledore, breathing heavily, turned to Ariana. The battle was won, for now. The threat was revealed. The war had officially begun.
But as Ariana looked at the spot where Voldemort had vanished, she heard his last, parting words, not spoken aloud, but hissed directly into her mind with the power of a Legilimens.
"This changes nothing, clever girl. The prophecy will be mine. And you… you will join me. Whether you like it or not."
Ariana stood firm, her expression unreadable. She had faced him down. She had rejected his offer. But she knew this was just the first move in a new, far more personal, and far more dangerous game. Voldemort now saw her not just as an obstacle, but as a prize to be claimed. And she knew, with a cold, logical certainty, that her fifth year at Hogwarts had just come to a very definitive, and very dangerous, end.