Shadows of Redemption

Chapter 17: The Dark Lord's Visit

Harriet's POV

The atmosphere in Malfoy Manor was suffocating, so thick with fear and tension that it felt like I could choke on it. I lay curled up on the bed, every muscle in my small Kneazle body tensed and ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger. The realization that Voldemort himself was in the house made my blood run cold, and I couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of helplessness.

I watched Draco as he paced the room, his face pale and drawn, his hands shaking. He was terrified, and seeing him that way made my heart ache. We had prepared as much as we could, but nothing could have prepared us for this.

The voices downstairs were muffled, but I could hear the sinister cadence of Voldemort's speech, smooth and commanding, as he addressed the gathered Death Eaters. I couldn't make out the words, but the malice in his tone was unmistakable. Every syllable sent shivers down my spine.

Draco stopped pacing and pressed his ear against the door, straining to listen. His expression hardened as he tried to decipher what was being said. I leapt down from the bed and padded over to him, trying to convey my silent support. If he had to face this, then at least he wouldn't face it alone.

He glanced down at me, and his eyes softened, if only for a moment. "I wish I could shield you from this," he whispered. "But we're in this together, aren't we?"

I let out a soft, reassuring purr. The truth was, I needed him just as much as he needed me.

Suddenly, the voices downstairs grew louder, and I heard footsteps approaching. Draco's eyes widened, and he backed away from the door, motioning for me to hide. My heart raced, and I scrambled under the bed, pressing myself as close to the floor as I could.

The door swung open, and Lucius Malfoy stepped inside, his expression grim. His eyes flicked to Draco, and I could see the tightness around his mouth, the barely restrained panic. "Draco," he said, his voice low and tense. "The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you."

Draco went stiff, his face going even paler. "Me?" he whispered.

Lucius's jaw clenched. "Yes. Come quickly, and remember who you are and what is expected of you. Do not disappoint him."

Draco swallowed hard, and I could see the fear in his eyes. But he nodded, his face hardening into the mask he had perfected over the years. "Yes, Father," he said, his voice barely steady.

Lucius turned and left, leaving the door ajar. Draco stood there for a moment, his whole body shaking, before he took a deep breath and steeled himself. He glanced back at me, and I saw the raw, naked fear in his eyes.

"If this goes wrong..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "If I don't come back..."

I couldn't stand it. I shot out from under the bed and ran to him, pressing my head against his leg, wishing I could do more, say more. His hand hovered over me, hesitant, before he gently stroked my fur.

"I'll come back," he said, as much to convince himself as to reassure me. "I have to."

And with that, he squared his shoulders, took one last deep breath, and walked out of the room.

Draco's POV

My legs felt like lead as I made my way down the grand staircase, each step echoing through the cold, empty halls of Malfoy Manor. The closer I got to the drawing room, the heavier the air became, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

Voldemort stood in the center of the room, his thin, pale form shrouded in a black cloak. His presence was a void, a darkness that consumed everything around it. The Death Eaters were gathered in a loose circle, their faces a mix of fear and twisted reverence. Bellatrix's eyes shone with her usual, unhinged devotion, while my father stood with his head bowed, his posture stiff.

"Draco," Voldemort called, his voice like silk over a blade. "Come forward."

I forced my legs to move, stepping into the circle. My hands were clammy, my heart racing. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, waiting for me to falter, to fail. I kept my head down, refusing to let them see the fear that threatened to swallow me whole.

Voldemort's gaze was a physical weight, and when he spoke, I could feel the cold malice in his words. "You understand the importance of your role at Hogwarts this year, don't you?" he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

"Yes, my Lord," I managed, my voice steady only because I had practiced this answer a thousand times.

He took a step closer, and I had to fight the urge to flinch. "Good," he murmured. "You see, Draco, I have high expectations of you. Failure will not be tolerated." His hand reached out, and his long, pale fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. The red, snake-like gaze bored into me, and I felt as though my very soul was being laid bare.

"I trust," he continued, "that you will not disappoint me. Will you?"

I swallowed, my throat dry. "No, my Lord," I whispered.

His lips curved into a smile that sent ice through my veins. "Very well," he said, releasing me. "You may go."

I backed away, my entire body shaking. As I left the room, the sound of Bellatrix's laughter followed me, echoing in my ears like a nightmare.

Back in the guest room, I closed the door and leaned against it, my knees giving out beneath me. I sank to the floor, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Harriet was there in an instant, pressing against me, her warmth grounding me in the present.

"He's expecting me to succeed," I whispered, my voice breaking. "If I fail... he'll kill me. He'll kill my family."

Harriet's eyes shone with a mixture of worry and determination, and I felt the smallest, faintest flicker of hope. We had to find a way out. We had to survive.

Together.