Love Is In The Air: The Angelic Witch And Draco Malfoy (Book 4)

Death Eaters And Demons

"Voldemort..." Zagan's barely opened eyes gleamed. "Thrive, my faithful one, thrive!" The demon blessed him.

Andrew was hurrying away from all of them. He disappeared into the dark, but neither Zagan nor Wormtail was bothered by it. They were simply lost staring at Voldemort.

"Master," Voldemort said, looking away from Harry, towards Zagan and a huge evil grin took over his face. "I shall bow down only after I have proven myself worthy of your kindness by being faithful to you. Just a few more minutes." His eyes flickered to Heroneka.

Heroneka was now attempting to get rid of Cedric's hand. She knew that probably within a few moments, Voldemort might sacrifice her. The way he looked at her, made Heroneka feel disgusted and impure.

"Gemma..." He mumbled, watching her with his hungry red eyes. "I have missed you."

Voldemort looked away from Heroneka and began examining his own 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, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. 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, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh and turned to look at his master, Zagan.

"Do not play around, Voldemort." Zagan moved slightly on his wheelchair. "I wish to walk again soon."

"Master," Voldemort nodded and turned to Wormtail again.

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

"My Lord..." he choked, "my Lord...you promised...you did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh, Master...thank you, Master..."

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please...please..."

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Heroneka saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it...and now, we shall see...now we shall know..."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

Harry let out a muffled yell as his head moved with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and they saw that it had turned jet black. Heroneka remained silent. She wanted to hide... Run away from the graveyard. She snapped her fingers, but nothing happened. Neither her shield showed up, nor she turned into a kitten. It was like she had lost all her angelic abilities.

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

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