ꜱᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ | ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

Whispers from the Past, ch. 49

Back at the Minister's office, Barty entered and could've swore the temperature in the room had dropped last he'd been in. He shivered in his jacket as he saw the Dark Lord, pacing back and forth behind the desk.

"You're lucky, Minister," Voldemort said to the figure cowering in the corner. "If your people didn't have my partner, your blood would already be splattering the walls."

"Please," Scrimgeour moaned and Voldemort was over to him in an instant.

"Shhhhh, Minister, shhhhh. If she's fine, then you have nothing to worry about. However, if she isn't..."

Voldemort's wand twitched and Scrimgeour let loose a scream, gurgled from the blood in his mouth. Barty cringed. He'd rather fight a thousand Aurors than be where he was.

"Apologies, my merciful Dark Lord," Barty announced. Voldemort's head jerked up at the sound of his voice. "I hate to interrupt your fun."

"Save your apologies," Voldemort said, striding over to him in the doorway. Scrimgeour looked relieved at the interruption. "Speak."

Barty flinched under his ice cold gaze. His mouth struggled to make words. "They agree to your demands, my Lord."

"How smart of them," Voldemort drawled, but excitement lit up his eyes. "Take me to Harmony. I have to see her."

The sound of raw need in his tone made Barty uncomfortable and he took an awkward step away from Voldemort's penetrating gaze. "They wish to meet down in the Atrium-"

"I don't give a damn what they wish," Voldemort hissed. His breath was hot on Barty's face like dragon's fire and the Death Eater cowered. "You'll take me and my followers to her and we'll make very short work of this."

"It was her wish, my wondrous Dark Lord. It was my Lady's wish that you meet in the Atrium."

Voldemort froze, staring Barty down. "You sure, Bartemius? Why there?"

Barty shook his head, and he flinched again when Voldemort spun away from him to stand before the shattered window, looking down. Death Eaters and Aurors still dueled, their colorful flashes of wand lights soaring back and forth across the Atrium. Only now, Death Eaters outnumbered their enemies four-to-one. However, the potential victory was bittersweet. As long as his other half was away, the mission was far from complete.

"S-she also wished that you command the others to cease fighting," Barty added, nervously twiddling his wand with his fingers.

A vein throbbed in Voldemort's temple, but he gave an imperceptible nod at Barty's words. If she wished it. He had to trust her. "Tell the others waiting outside to descend to the Atrium and stop their comrades. If our enemies wish to flee, let them. If they wish to stay and fight, slaughter them."

Barty bowed and gratefully turned to leave.

"Wait," Voldemort barked over his shoulder and Barty regretfully froze in his tracks. When the Dark Lord spoke again, his voice was soft and hesitant. "How did she look?"

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"Was she hurt? Frightened?"

Barty thought a moment. "Nervous. She seemed nervous, my Lord."

"Nervous," Voldemort whispered. "Fine. But not hurt?"

"Not physically, no. Although..." Barty began, his black eyes narrowing in detest, "...that damned infamous Auror I had the pleasure of impersonating a few years ago, Mad-Eye Moody, threatened to kill her and the baby should you refuse their demands. Right git, he is."