Marching into the shabby hut, Voldemort collapsed onto a worn-out chair, wheezing in relief. After the plan to take over Hogwarts failed, Voldemort had to flee the country, ending up in the Great Rift Valley of Kenya. He arrived in the middle of the night, his random apparating leaving him bewildered in the middle of the Pokomo Tribe's Homeland. Before any of the Pokomos awoke from their peaceful slumber he ambled into the nearest, abandoned looking hut. Sitting down, Voldemort pondered over what made the mission go so dreadfully wrong.

The plan was for the Death Eaters to swoop into Hogwarts and capture Dumbledore, leaving himself as the new and improved headmaster of the legendary school for witchcraft and wizardry. Everything went downhill once the first wave of Death Eaters hit the force field, what a stupid mistake to make! Wrapped up in his future ambitions for the school, he had completely forgotten about the precautions old man Albus had put up. He blamed this failure upon himself; it was too unbearable to face his ever loyal followers, who he had disappointed greatly.

Inspecting his long, dirty nails, Voldemort wondered what was to become of his future after this terrible ordeal. Frowning, he hovered his index finger over the dark mark that he had conjured himself on his left arm. If he gathered his followers now, in Kenya, he would be taken for a fool and would never be seen as the Mighty Dark Lord ever again, so he reluctantly moved his hand away. Voldemort had never in his life been called a Coward and definitely did not like the feeling of knowing he was one in this precise moment in time. He sunk lower into the chair and bowed his head, from this moment on; nothing would ever be the same.

Voldemort awoke with a start, a familiar sound filling his ear drums. It was the howling of a Barn Owl, a Barn Owl that sounded a little too similar for comfort. He recognised the sound of Harry Potter's own pet bird. Pushing himself out of the chair, Voldemort stumbled outside. He had badly injured his right knee whilst apparating, before he fully disappeared, Dobby the house elf grabbed his leg, twisting his knee in its socket in the meanwhile.
Voldermort leant heavily on the doorframe whilst squinting up into the night sky, he couldn't see anything. He quietly sighed in relief to himself, if Hedwig was actually here, he would be in trouble, yet he couldn't help recalling how soft his feathers were and how much he yearned to hold the beautiful bird right now in his arms.

Shaking himself out of the daze, he stood with his mouth slightly agape, confused at what he had just imagined. What on earth was he thinking? Since when was there a time when he didn't want to murder Hedwig out of pure spite towards his Nemesis, Potter? He was about to head back into the hut but before he could do so, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. In a flash, his wand was out, pointing at the unseen possible threat. He found himself pointing at a dried up Cactus that had certainly seen better days, although it was not the Cactus that he was interested in, it was the person hiding behind it.

Voldemort lurched towards the Plant, hissing out. His target had not moved an inch, and was still standing quite tranquilly it seemed behind the Cactus. Before he reached out for the person something stopped him in his tracks. The Pokomo Tribe member was holding something, that something being Hedwig. Something within him made him no longer powerful and in control of his muscles, causing his knees to buckle beneath him. Before hitting the ground, he made eye contact with the majestic creature and a feeling cascaded through him that he had never encountered before, that feeling being Love. TO BE CONTINUED ;)