Notes

“Now, Potter… we bow.”

In a split second, I came to a decision. Dropping to one knee, I bowed my head. The ranks of the Death Eaters around us murmured. Ideas raced through my mind, their speed enhanced by the adrenaline running through my veins. I could not afford to let Voldemort swing the momentum of this conversation back to himself. I had to seize control.

With that thought in mind, I focused on snakes, and began to speak. “I have waited three years to speak to you again, Lord Voldemort.”

Silence descended upon the graveyard. Then, the quiet rustling of robes. I did not look up.

“Harry Potter.” The hiss of Voldemort’s voice cut through the stillness. “You have waited three years to speak to me what, precisely?”

I clenched my teeth. Give the wrong answer, and I may as well have signed my life away for a song and dance. “Three years ago, we spoke, and you made me an offer. In my impetuous youth, I was… hasty in rejecting it.”

The smell of rot and decay that had accompanied the ritual did nothing to help with the nausea I felt, but I repressed it. This was my only chance at survival. Think fast, lie hard. I only hoped I would be able to escape the web I was weaving.

I heard a strange noise. As it increased in volume, I realized what it was. Voldemort was laughing. I gripped my wand tighter, dread falling on me. Then the laughter cut out, and Voldemort spoke to his servants.

“My friends! On this glorious day of my rebirth, an even greater fortune befalls us. My enemy, Harry Potter, who had so unwittingly defied me in the past, has seen the error of his ways. He wishes to join us.”

Gasps and shocked mutters raced through the ranks. “I do believe this calls for a celebration. Rise, Harry Potter,” said Voldemort.

I stood, face blank, wand held loose in my hand. My heart pounded in my chest. There was no way the deception had been that easy. There was going to be mockery, and then a killing curse.

But Voldemort continued to defy my expectations. In his hands, he held a mask. An identical copy of the mask worn by the Death Eaters surrounding us. “Approach, Harry Potter.”

I strode toward him, the ache in my scar growing worse with each step. My footing was sure, and my face betrayed no pain. At last, I stood in front of him. Voldemort towered above me, bloodless face and red eyes etched in a mockery of joy.

He brought the mask to my face, and the pain increased. Neither a whimper nor a curse would escape me. The cold metal affixed to my face did not slip, held there as though with magic. My enemy drew back, and finally I felt it was safe to speak. “Thank you, my lord.”

Voldemort turned back to his Death Eaters, and my wand hand itched. No, this was another test. I had come this far, I would be able to ride out the rest until I could make my escape.

“We depart!” Voldemort hissed. “Wormtail, take Potter!”

I froze, then tamped down my disgust and revulsion again. Just another hurdle to clear. At this point, he was not human anymore, but simply an extension of Voldemort’s will. I would be no more disgusted with him then I would be with a rock that Voldemort had stepped on.

Wormtail grabbed my uninjured arm with his hand as Death Eaters starting disappearing around us with pops. A moment later, I was pulled through a tumbling vortex, compressed beyond the limits of what the human body had been meant for, crushed- and then I stood on solid ground, gasping.

In front of me loomed an enormous mansion, defended by an iron-wrought gate. It stood open, letting through the Death Eaters who had arrived before us.

Voldemort approached from behind me, and spread his arms. “Welcome, Harry Potter, to Malfoy Manor.”