A deleted scene from Blood and Gold (would fit into chapter 74, The Storm)
Victory was cold, stagnant, and silent.
The great halls of Ilvermorny were empty; it was July, and so no students nor faculty filled it with the life that would come about in the Fall. It was only he, Lord Voldemort, gracing the castle with his presence today… and what a castle it was.
Immediately evident in that it was based on Hogwarts. The founder—Isolt Sayre—may never have stepped foot in Hogwarts, but she clearly knew its history, and had heard about its unique characteristics. There was a corridor that shifted depending on the day of the week. A few of the staircases moved. The common rooms for the houses were in towers, dungeons, and one was very near to the kitchens.
There was no secret chamber, though… unless it was a very secret indeed.
All in due time, Voldemort reminded himself. The castle was his, now. The MACUSA itself was his.
On knees that had been forced to bend, bloodied and raw, unwilling, and—
No. He could not focus on that. He had won, however brutally, however many had needed to die in the process. North America was once more under the heel of Britain, where it rightfully belonged… and it would stay there.
This generation would be ugly. They would fight with tooth and nail to defy him however they could, and he and his strategically placed followers would bite back, brandishing the whip of the Ministry’s power…
The best generation would inherit some of this conflict…
Ah, but the next generation, and the one after. Someday, these growing pains would fade, and he would still be there.
Voldemort was eternal… and he was patient.
He had taken her supposed school with catastrophic force; had killed Liam Wright, had killed Lester Madison, had overtaken an entire magical government—!
He thought he heard something—the slightest rustle behind him in the Great Hall. There was nothing there. A rat, perhaps, or even his own wild imagination.
And yet he looked for her.
Every time. Like she might appear at any moment, ready to fight him, kill him, or surrender. He didn’t know. He didn’t care, really, so long as she appeared.
Voldemort scowled, hating how quick he was to allow hope to swell in his heart, at any opportunity. She would come… someday. He just needed to drive her out.
Ilvermorny… wasn’t enough.
Why would it be? She had never been here. It, like most of her, was a lie.
He would just have to do better.
Curious, Voldemort returned to the entryway. The Gordian Knot engraved on the marble floor was intricate, and he allowed his eyes to follow its looping pathways for a time before looking up. He examined each of the wooden statues in turn: the Thunderbird, the Wompus, the Horned Serpent, the Pukwudgie.
He moved slowly, not stopping until he was standing directly in the center of the round enclosure. He waited.
After a long pause, just as he was beginning to think the school would not sort a wizard who was clearly no student, a light shone. The Horned Serpent. The crystal on its head was glowing brilliantly.
Then, before he could react in any way, the Wompus let out a deafening roar. And a moment after that, the Thunderbird came to life, beating its wings in the air.
Voldemort turned to face the Pukwudgie. The small, house-elf like creature made of wood stared at him blankly.
It didn’t move. Its arrow remained at its side in its tightly furled fist.
Voldemort’s heart began to pound. Her voice, clear as the purest water, filled his mind.
As it happens, I was a rarity. More than one house wanted me. Three, in fact. All but the Pukwudgie. I suppose my heart wasn't pure enough for that little creature to be interested…
Voldemort was screaming and pulling out his wand before he had given his body permission to act. He slashed the Deathstick, fury bursting out of him, turning the wooden statue of the Pukwudgie to ashes in a flash of violent magic. The debris tainted the air as he fell to his knees, still crying out, shattered to learn that her lie had become his truth.
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