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Chapter 57

The rage boils inside you all night, a tempest that refuses to be contained. The prophecy's words, the constant manipulation, the sheer weight of it all pushes you to the brink. 

Finally, you can handle it no longer. You hastily pack your things and apparate them back to Severus' house. When you return through the skylight, you find Voldemort, in his very frail state, sitting on your bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice cold and dangerous.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes burning with fury. "Burning it down."

He studies you for a moment, realizing the seriousness of your words. "Wormtail!" he calls, his voice echoing in the attic. Wormtail scurries in, panic written all over his face.

"The estate is on fire," Wormtail stammers, fear evident in his eyes.

You trap all three of you in the attic as the house burns, the smoke beginning to rise around you. Voldemort's eyes narrow, and he looks at you with a mix of anger and calculation.

"What do you want?" he demands, his voice tight.

"My freedom," you say, your voice steady despite the chaos around you. "Or I will never stop until you are dead."

He sneers, though there is a hint of fear in his eyes. "I could end you now," he says, his voice filled with malice.

"Do it, you fucking coward," you whisper, your voice dripping with defiance.

He sees the determination in your eyes, the unyielding fire within you. For a moment, there is silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames below.

"Your humanity," he says, his voice softer now, appealing. "You don't want to become like me."

You laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in the smoke-filled attic. "Do not lower yourself enough to beg me," you whisper.

He watches you, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You are serious," he murmurs. "You would rather see us all burn than be controlled."

"Yes," you reply simply. "I am not your pawn. I will have my freedom, or I will see this entire place reduced to ashes."

"Bow," you command, your voice cutting through the smoke-filled air. "Pledge allegiance to me."

For a moment, there is silence, the tension thick and palpable. The lines between who is truly filled with darkness blur in this moment, and the power dynamics shift.

Voldemort's eyes blaze with defiance. "I will never bow to you," he says, his voice hard. "But I will recognize you as my equal."

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. Slowly, you nod. "I accept your vow."

With a swirl of your wand, the smoke dissipates, revealing that the fire and destruction were all an illusion. The attic remains intact, but the power you displayed is undeniable. You have proven yourself a powerful witch, and in his current frail form, Voldemort is outmatched.

He straightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "You are formidable," he says, a grudging respect in his voice. "But remember, alliances are fragile. Trust must be earned."

You lower your wand, the tension between you still electric. "I will hold you to your word," you reply. "And I expect the same from you."

He inclines his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Very well. We will see how this plays out."

You turn and leave the attic, your heart still racing from the confrontation. As you step outside, the fresh air fills your lungs, and you feel a sense of triumph and clarity. You have taken control of your fate, proving your strength and determination.