AN: This story will not make much sense without first reading 'Redivivus'. Reading 'Tabula Rasa' may help in that respect, too.

I aim to complete this by the time Deathly Hallows is released. I'll do my best to do so, but can make no promises.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Almost two years had passed since the defeat of Lord Voldemort in this miserable, Light-loving world. The sickening resonance resulting from it was like a persistent ache in my entire skeleton. If I had been here at the time, things would have been very different. My Lord would have triumphed if he'd had a true Necromancer by his side. Instead he had her. The Traitor to the very creed of Necromancy. If she hadn't destroyed herself in the act of atomising Voldemort, I would have hunted her down and eliminated her. Although, admittedly, I might have died in the attempt. Traitor though Granger was, she was a formidable foe. Still, I wish that I'd had the chance to face her.

Two years was too long for the Light to be in power. It was high time for matters to be resolved. Dumbledore, Potter and every other Light wizard had grown complacent. They were unprepared; it would be ridiculously simple to overthrow them.

It was time to meet with my accomplice, the last living Death Eater. Well, the last loyal Death Eater. Snape is a shadow of the intimidating Dark wizard he once was. Rumour has it that he was affianced to the Traitor, and still waited for her to return. Didn't he know that even Necromancers cannot come back from scattered atoms on their own steam? Fool.

Peter Pettigrew, otherwise known as Wormtail, had survived the attack of the undead by changing into his puny Animagus form and running for his life, like the coward he is. Nagini is more useful than he is, but unfortunately even big snakes like her can't provide what I require from him.

"Milady Atropos, is it t-time?" At Wormtail's stutter, I turned to face him. He shrank back from my cold, black gaze.

"It is. I told you that I would meet you, not for you to come to me. I thought I also told you that I am no Lady." I spoke softly, my words clipped and tone cold. After Wormtail quivered, I continued speaking, "But never mind that. Take my hand, I will use Side-Along Apparation to take us to our goal."

Moments later, we stood in front of a carved Grim Reaper guarding the grave of Tom Riddle. I could do this anywhere, but as Voldemort was resurrected here once before, I decided to make it a tradition. Wormtail's hand was quivering in my grip. It was only because he feared me more than the late Voldemort that he joined me. His cowardice could give rats a bad name, although this process would redeem Wormtail somewhat.

I closed my eyes, hoarfrost spreading out around me as I reached into the Dark powers gifted to me. My grip tightened around Wormtail's hand until he squeaked with pain, unable to get away despite his squirming. I hadn't explained to him exactly what the process of resurrecting Voldemort was going to include, as his sense of self-preservation doubtless would have overcome his fear of me. He screamed as I began to steal his life force, the fabric of his body starting to fall apart as I did so.

My free hand outstretched, I let the pervasive cold of Necromantic magic fill me. Such a delicate process as this requires not so much concentrating as letting go and allowing the magic itself to guide you. Even with my eyes squeezed shut, I could see a glow growing brighter much like the birth of a star. This glow grew man-shaped until finally the light dimmed, leaving me almost blind. There was a clatter from beside me as Wormtail's silver hand landed on the ground, nothing else remaining of him. I blinked my eyes open, my vision steadily improving. On the ground in front of me lay the body of Lord Voldemort, a sight that would strike fear into the hearts of many… or rather, it would if he weren't naked, as no man looks frightening in his birthday suit. Bringing clothes back with him would have been a waste of energy, considering Transfiguring a new set is child's play for a witch of my talents.

My heart skipped a beat as I realised that while I could detect an answering heartbeat from Voldemort, I had felt something else go wrong. I knelt by his side, observing his chest gently rise and fall with each breath. Reaching out with a trembling hand to touch his cool skin, my fears were proved right. Voldemort's body was back, but he was still technically dead. I hadn't felt his soul accompany his atoms. A look of complete consternation crossed my face as I came to the obvious answer to my 'little' problem. That Traitor Granger! She hadn't just atomised his body, she'd also banished his soul to the void. Now there was no way to ever resurrect him. At least not in the way that he'd done it before, I mused as I stared down at his empty form. There were other ways to perpetuate his legacy….

I took a firm hold of the body in preparation to Apparate to somewhere to carry out my modified plans, as specialised equipment would be necessary. Before I could do so, I spun away, feeling torn between screaming in pain and vomiting as extreme nausea twisted my insides. The feeling intensified, leaving me doubled over until the sensation passed. I cradled my head in my hands.

"What in the world was that?!?"

In answer to my question, the pertaining knowledge rose from the treacherous memories of my reading of the Necromantic Book of the Dead, which has a nasty habit of keeping the necessary memories from me until after I need them… like when resurrecting a Dark Lord. When Voldemort had been atomised, so had the Traitor. Their atoms had been scattered at the same time, with the same magical signature responsible for doing so. When I had used my powers to reassemble Voldemort, I had set in motion the exact same process with the Traitor, much like the first pebbles of an avalanche. And the Traitor's soul hadn't been consigned to the void!

"Oh, fuck…" I moaned, slumping onto my back beside Voldemort's body. I really should have been more careful with what I wished for, as my earlier thought drifted through my mind: I wish that I'd had the chance to face her.

AN: I originally planned for this to take place five years after Redivivus. But I decided to take pity on Severus. Two years was long enough for the poor chap to be alone.