The deep gorge dropped away below him, plummeting down towards the far distant silver ribbon of the half-frozen river at the bottom at a startling angle. Its walls were dark granite, cut from the mountains by the brutal winds and the passage of an ancient long melted glacier and crowned with a blanket of thick and frigid snow.

The wind howled like a near rabid animal, tugging at his pale curls until they were whipped into a wild bird's nest and scratching at the apples of his cheeks with icy talons in a futile effort to leave them raw and smarting. To a lesser creature, like a human, the subzero temperatures would have been unbearable but Tom-not that anyone ever called him by that name, having long since learned to refer to him by his preferred moniker of Voldemort, or simply by his earned title of 'Heartless'-was as unmoved by the chill as the mountains upon which the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been built; his body barely noticing the cold nor sparing even the slightest shiver, as if made from stone or ice rather than living flesh and blood be it that of a human or a monster.

Hollow silver eyes gazed down into the abyss with marked dispassion as he poised upon the mountain's lip like a sneering gargoyle atop the parapets of a heathen church. The thought was near enough to make him laugh and snarl in equal measure: his kind, better than any other, understood the truth that there was no 'God'. By any name. No matter what you were-rich or poor, merchant or minstrel, human or Inferus or both like him-all of them were Godless creatures, whether they realized and accepted that fact or not.

Thaurisaz gleamed silver against the ebon livery slung about his throat, the Rune chosen as the personal emblem to replace his name in the eyes of those who refused to recognize the fact he even had one in the same capacity that they did. Those that he was far superior to-even while bound to them as a servant under threat of death-and who forced him to protect humanity. But mankind had never carried anything but hatred for him, even back when he'd been one of them himself, and were far from deserving of that protection. Tom. Voldemort. 'Heartless'. All three reduced to a naked branch with a single thorn, emblazoned each upon collar and sword.

He growled, putting sharp teeth on display as his eyes flashed from silver to a piercing molten gold.

"The others can feel your restlessness for miles; you're upsetting the trainees."

Tom turned his head just enough to see his handler, as he called himself, standing not far behind him. Far more susceptible to the cold than he was the man had wrapped himself in thick fur clothing layers deep and his blonde hair, done back into a long pony tail, was whipped about behind him like some manner of absurd foreign flag.

"You're presence here in Ravenclaw Province has begun to become a bit of a thorn in our side, Number One."

"And what do you expect me to do about it, Abraxas? Suppress my Dark Aura enough that only those specialized in the sensory arts could perceive it? I don't sodding feel like going through the trouble." He returned his gaze to the gorge. "If the old man wants that, he'll have to come tell me himself."

This response was clearly a less than pleasing one, which was a large part and parcel of why he'd worded it in the way that he had. He chaffed under their yolk more than any other within the Order, and taking out his considerable frustrations on Abraxas was one of the few outlets he had through which to relieve his ever mounting frustration. Though he had to admit that doing so did carry some considerable risks. As much as Tom hated to admit it, on account of both his proud human nature and Inferus side's distaste of admitting lack of dominance, the man did hold power over him; the slightest hint from Abraxas that he'd 'gone out of control' would see the entire force of the Order of the Phoenix coming down upon his head.

Even as the Number One of the current generation, up against forty six foes at once he'd be overwhelmed. Which was, perhaps, the only reason he hadn't shaken off their chains years ago.

"We know better than to waste our breath doing such a thing. Your inappropriately vocal disagreements would be far more trouble than settling a batch of unfinished weapons is worth. Though I must admit that we do have some concerns about how unrestrained you are with the use of your power. You may be a half-breed but I know you're not a fool and you've seen what happens to those who…take things too far."

"I know my limits." His hissed susurrus joined with that of the wind. "I simply prefer my fights to end quickly. A gross display of power is preferable over a battle dragged out too long."

"Once you've finished playing with them, perhaps. We all know that your tendency to dissect your prey is where your moniker comes from in large part, 'Heartless'. That being said, I suggest you mind yourself in the future: it would be a shame to put you down prematurely. You're the strongest we've produced in centuries and we've yet to find an adequate replacement."

"Just go back to using Wizards; the Organization already broke that rule with me." Tom grunted. "What would you have me to do, then, if not suppress my Aura?" he prodded further, annoyance coursing through him when the other man failed to elaborate in a timely manner.

"We've a few jobs lined up for you in Gryffindor Province, to the South. They should break your boredom nicely, give you the chance to burn off steam, and take you far enough away from Ravenclaw Province that you won't continue riling anyone else while doing it. They should serve to keep you busy, at least for a while." He said. "And should more arrive in the meantime I'll get in touch."

He had to admit that the offer of a distraction was quite a tempting one. To have a chance to get out and prowl the countryside again. To get embroiled in a good fight. It would be just the sort of break he'd need to save him from going completely crazy. "And what jobs would these be?"

"Two separate villages in the Province are being terrorized by Inferus; one in Godric's Hollow and the other in Ballycastle." He said. "You'll handle Godric's Hollow first, as they were the first to send word for our assistance."

"They're simply Inferus? Nothing more than that? How many in each town?"

"One, most likely."

"One?" This was not what his idea of a 'good fight' amounted to. It wasn't even going to be a fight at all. "Single Inferus of the most general sort; have you lost your mind? I am this generation's Number One! My function is to take out entire towns which have been overtaken by Inferus, dismantle whole covens of Magicals and put down the strongest of my own fellows who have lost themselves to their monstrous sides! Sending me after such targets wouldn't only be a waste of my ability, it would be a job well below my station!"

"Below your station? You seem to have forgotten your station! You're a weapon, nothing more, and are beholden to the will of the Order of the Phoenix! The Order has decided to dispatch you to handle this matter! And you will obey!" He snapped. "You will perform the indicated jobs and any others that spring up in their aftermath, as if your sole function and purpose for existing as you are! A Claymore without a purpose amounts only to a weapon without a purpose and a weapon without a purpose is a weapon for which we have neither need nor use. Number Two would be more than pleased to receive the promotion that your euthinization would provide in the interim of our finding a more suitable replacement. And Numbers Three through Eleven could use the further training."

Tom's teeth clicked together but he gave no other sign of his annoyance. "Even busy work is better than sitting here any longer."

"I knew that you'd come to see it our way, Voldemort. You're a sensible beast, after all." His posture betrayed his relief to again be free of the cold and the wind as Abraxas turned and began heading back towards the building.

How he wished the Order had never discovered his only fear. Then they wouldn't have been able to exploit it against him the way that they did. But they had, inevitably, and here he was. Forced to bow to creatures weaker than him. To fight against the Inferus for their sake and against his own inner monster for the sake of his sanity and for not having to be hunted down himself. In his training days he'd thought of little more than vengeance, but now he knew that he wouldn't make it out of taking it alive.

Godric's Hollow wasn't a town that he'd been to before, but he knew that it sat on the border of the central Province of Avalon and the Southern Province of Gryffindor. Walking there and without once stopping to rest, reaching it would take him just under three days.

Without a passing thought or hesitation Tom stepped over the side of the precipice. The wind howled louder as it whipped around him, the mountain side blurring slightly as he passed. The drop would have killed any human and most Inferus or Half-breeds that attempted it, but with precise and timely direction of his Aura his legs were more than able to hold up against the landing's crushing blow. The stone beneath his metal greaves was not so lucky, shattering into dust and jagged shards with a loud and very satisfying crack.

Pausing only long enough to determine the direction of his travel, Tom set out along the serpentine bank of the river towards the South.