Lord Voldemort

"My friend!" Malgino exclaimed in great delight. "So? I keep my promises or not?"

"You do, Kazle." Lord Voldemort replied, examining his own new body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat's, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant.

"Great. Stormy!" Malgino called.

Stormy walked towards Malgino still clutching her bloody hand. Then bowed to both of them.

"You've redeemed yourself and proved that you're not a waste. I forgive you. Now your hand." Malgino smiled.

"No Kazle. As I said before, Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers... Stormy hold your hand out." Voldemort said.

"As you wish, my lord." Stormy hold out her bleeding stump.

Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Stormy's bleeding wrist.

"Thank you my lord." She said. There was no sign of happiness on her face as she stepped back.

"Now it's time to call back my followers." Voldemort said and raised his wand.

A crackling flame shoot out from his wand and it turned into a red skull with a snake protruding from its mouth — the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark.

Harry screamed again.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" Voldemort whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Malgino laughed.

"Have you met our guests, Voldemort?" He said.

Voldemort looked at Chris, Cedric and Harry. A cruel satisfaction on his face as his gaze fixed at Harry.

"You see, Harry Potter, those are the remains of my late father," he hissed softly pointing at the open grave. "A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . ."

Voldemort laughed again.

"You still think like your sixteen years old self." Chris spit out. "Just your appearance is new, Riddle."

Voldemort sharply looked at her.

"If you weren't so important to my friend, you would've been dead a long time ago." He hissed.

"But I'm still alive." Chris said, looking directly at Voldemort's eyes. "And that changes everything."

And without warning,

"Crucio."

It was pain beyond anything Chris had ever experienced, even the thorn vines were nothing compared to it; her very bones were on fire; her head was surely splitting; her eyes were rolling madly in her head; she wanted it to end . . . to black out . . . to die . . .

And then it was gone.

Voldemort laughed coldly.

"Now? What were you saying?" He asked.

Chris glared at him.

"Ah-ha. You hit at the wrong place, my friend." Malgino said coming forward beside Voldemort. "Hit where it hurts. Crucio."

Cedric screamed.

For a second, Chris remembered Neville, his parents going mad because of this curse. Then Cedric's yells.

"Stop." She shouted.

Malgino stopped, smiled, then, "Crucio."

This time Harry screamed.

"Harry!"

Voldemort and Malgino both laughed loudly.

Seeing their laughing faces, for the first time, maybe, Chris felt weak. She felt they were going to die tonight.

"I were right. Muggles are indeed weak." Voldemort said. "Look! My family returns. . . ."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master . . . Master . . ." he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Chris, Cedric, Harry, Voldemort, Malgino, Ethan and Stormy. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Voldemort, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle, as though it had shivered.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years . . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. . . . We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."

A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare, to step back from him.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke.

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . .

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.

But Chris got an idea, what if she summons Dames here. She never tried but she could, maybe.

"It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed. . . ." Voldemort said.

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked.

Voldemort raised his wand. The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Lucius." said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years . . . I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you."

'Dames. Accio Dames. Accio Dementors.' Chris thought desperately.

As Lucius stood up and stand back, Voldemort pointed towards Malgino, Stormy and Ethan.

"If I hadn't got a friend like Kazle.... everyone of you disappointed me but my fortune didn't left my side. It sent me a friend like Kazle, who helped me to gain my strength back.... gave me countless ideas to give me back my body."

Malgino looked pleased.

"Gave his followers to me. They did many sacrifices to give me back my powers." Voldemort smiled too. "Unlike you all, Lucius."

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," Lucius Malfoy looked still shaken up. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me...."

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. . . . I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course. . . . You are merciful, thank you. . . ."

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space — large enough for two people — that separated Malfoy and the next man.

"The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. . . . When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us . . . they are our natural allies . . . we will recall the banished giants . . . I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear. . . ."

'You wish. Dames will never betray me. I'm their Queen.' Chris thought narrowing her eyes.

Voldemort walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.

"Macnair . . . destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Ethan tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide. . . ."

"Thank you, Master . . . thank you," murmured Macnair.

"And here," Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures, "we have Crabbe . . . you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

"They're death eaters too?" Chris whispered.

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"Yes, Master . . ."

"We will, Master. . . ."

"The same goes for you, Nott," said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle's shadow.

'Theodore's father is a death eater?'

"My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful...."

"That will do," said Voldemort.

He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.

There was still no sign of any Dementor.

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return . . . he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever . . . he will be killed, of course . . . and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."

The Death Eaters stirred, and Chris saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.

"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived here tonight. . . . Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry's direction. "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

There was a silence.

"Master, we crave to know . . . we beg you to tell us . . . how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how you managed to return to us. . . ." Lucius Malfoy said.

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," said Voldemort. "And it begins — and ends — with my young friend here."

'Wait! I still have my locket on. There'll be something I can use, right?'

Voldemort walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, who was twitching in pain on his scar. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him — and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. . . . I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice. . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it . . . but no matter. I can touch him now."

He touched Harry's face.

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know . . . You know my goal — to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself . . . for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand. . . . I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. . . . I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. . . . Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me . . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body . . . but I waited in vain. . . ."

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals — snakes, of course, being my preference — but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic . . . and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long. . . . Then . . . four years ago . . . the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard — young, foolish, and gullible — wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of . . . for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school . . . he was easy to bend to my will . . . he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted . . . thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter. . . ."

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry. Malgino was just smiling looking at Voldemort.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers. . . . Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour . . . I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess . . . and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me. . . ."

One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice.

"And then, one and half year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last, my friend here found me." Voldemort said looking at Malgino. "Why don't you tell them how did you find me, my friend?"