All Hail the Dark Lord, Or Something Idiotic Like That

Chapter 1: The Rebellion

A/N: Not my story! Original available on ao3

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The Unspeakable was paying much more attention to the speed he was walking at than he ever had before in his life. He couldn't walk too fast or his co-workers would ask what was happening and pay him more attention, but if he walked too slow, then that would be suspicious too. It shouldn't be so difficult to walk innocently, but when you were hyper-aware that you were absolutely not innocent, something as simple as walking became much more difficult than ever before in his life.

After the war he'd decided that he was really just done with having to deal with people, so he'd dramatically changed the direction of his life to bury himself in research as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries and almost step completely out of the society around him. He had done an excellent job at losing himself in his job. He actually did so well that he hadn't even realized the world around him had become unrecognizable and rotting from the core of society until it had been way too late.

He took in a breath and continued his walk to the lifts that would take him away from where he'd found a home and acceptance and back up into the society of hate and shame in the heart of London. He wistfully looked at the dark marble walls, very aware this was more than likely his last day as an employee of the Ministry of Magic...hell, it was probably his last day as someone who wasn't wanted for crimes against society.

"Unspeakable Smith," a voice called from behind him, causing his heart to pound more heavily. The man turned slowly and almost let out a whimper at the sight of the red hem of the obscuring cloak of his supervisor. He had no idea or even theories on how Supervisor Davids always recognized them on sight and was even more confused why he insisted on using their ridiculous code names when it was just the two of them in a meeting.

"Supervisor," he gave a little nod of his hooded and obscured face. "Can I help you?"

"Before you leave," the tall Unspeakable stepped almost uncomfortably close to his subordinate, something he was want to do to put people off their guard and make them feel a bit wrong-footed in their interactions. "I would like an update on your active project."

The younger Unspeakable wanted to scream in frustration. His supervisor had a habit of asking for updates when least expected, and this was absolutely not the time. "I have made some moderate headway," he explained in as neutral of a tone as he could pull off. "As you are aware, my supply has been restricted. If my test cases were fresher and more plentiful..."

"Your headway, Unspeakable Smith," the supervisor cut him off, clearly not wanting to hear his gripes about resources and the restrictions placed on his specific area of research. Neither the ministry nor the Department of Mysteries would ever admit to the general public they had a small department...well, one person, who researched soul magic...the darkest of magics.

"I've extended viability of the host and there were some slight changes in responsiveness from my last test subject," he ground out, trying to not draw attention to the pocket of his robe that he was overly aware contained an object that would clearly be highly illegal for him to step onto the lift with...or frankly even have on his person since it was not from his research.

Supervisor Davids just nodded his hooded head and reached into his own pocket. "Have you left the weekly copies of your notes for the project on my desk?

The younger Unspeakable frowned, not that anyone could see. He always left his notes for his supervisor. He'd never been late turning them in even once. It was odd he would suddenly ask. "Yes, sir..."

"Brilliant," the man nodded again, his hand coming out of his pocket and holding a clear, but unremarkable crystal. "You will need this for your project, Unspeakable Smith. I wish you luck."

He reached out his hand in confusion for the crystal. As soon as the crystal touched his skin, he was even more entirely confused. The crystal felt alive with swarming electric waves of magic. Unspeakables were trained to sense magic around them, but he guessed even an average wixen would be able to feel the ambient energy of this crystal. Besides the unassuming crystal being enormously magical, it was also clearly not going to help him in any of his projects. It was the lightest magic he'd ever felt in his life. He imagined a phoenix's magic would feel similar as the lightest of all magical creatures.

"Sir...I don't think..."

"Have a good weekend, Unspeakable Smith," the man turned, ignoring his protest. "Your research has been groundbreaking, and you have been an asset to this department. Keep the crystal...you'll see how it fits in soon enough."

The younger Unspeakable slid the crystal in the opposite pocket to the other object on his person and shook his head in bemusement as he stepped through the doors of the lift when it stopped. His supervisor had always been an enigmatic drama queen in his opinion, not that he'd ever say that to the man's face...well, hood. The lift doors closed and the Unspeakable was painfully aware that he'd officially just broken multiple laws, enough to get him sent to Azkaban for life.

With a deep breath, he forcefully let go of his tension and pushed the hood from his head, running his hand through his long, red hair before pulling a hair tie from his wrist and shoving it into a knot at the base of his neck, just wanting it out of his way and not distracting. He should just cut it, he thought for the thousandth time, even though he never did. The lift dinged and he once more took a steadying breath before stepping into the atrium.