Anya Barton has been called by many names but psychic was not one of them.
Her hand stopped moving and letting out a frustrated yell, she threw away the pencil and the journal to the other side of the room. Breathing deeply, she grabbed her hair with both hands and closed her eyes tightly.
Marie took one look at her and lowered Hogwarts: A History to her lap. Her blue eyes darted from the red leather journal that Remus Lupin had given to Anya last year, to the girl curled under the pink hammock. Sighing, she stood from the bureau and bent to pick it up. Without hesitating, she moved through the pages until she reached the page where Anya had been. Marie blinked, raising her eyebrows and her mouth opened, forming a small 'o'.
Her fingers lightly traced the dark tones Anya had used for this particular drawing. It was the most disturbing scene the older teenager had drawn, and Marie knew Anya tried to avoid everything that reminded her of her time as Voldemort's executioner. It had been a year since then, and Anya had made a lot of progress with her friends and herself. So why was she drawing an old abandoned manor with snakes surrounding it?
Marie looked over at Anya.
"Has Potter talked to you about having strange dreams?"
Lightning flashed outside the window and rain began to pour. Wary, I walked down the hall, one hand touching a worn wall for balance, the other holding my aspen wand. I stopped briefly by another window, and stared at my reflection. Wide hazel eyes stared back. My long hair was a downright mess and the white nightie I was wearing was stained with dust and cobwebs. I shuddered at the thought of carrying spiders with me.
"Why should I?" said Anya, her voice muffled by her hands.
Marie rolled her eyes. Stopping in front of her, she gave her a gentle nudge with her foot. Sighing, Anya dropped her hands and looked up at her, her gaunt and pale face tired, marred by nightmares.
"You know why."
I started to climb the stairs, dust dancing around my feet. Once I reached the landing, I looked to the sides, deciding to go to the right. Voices began to reach my ears.
"He'll probably think I'm going mad," she muttered.
"And if you don't tell him, you'll end up going mad," said Marie, snapping the journal shut. She slammed it down the bureau and looked down at Anya coolly.
"Was it the same thing?" she asked, gently. "Was it Riddle?"
The doors began to rattle. I whirled on the spot, looking behind me. I was met by a wall.
"No!" I gasped, and began to hit the wall with my fists. "No! Let me out!"
"There's a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry."
I stilled.
"Later," said a second voice. I shivered, recognizing it from the first time I met the most feared man in the Wizarding World. "Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."
I twisted around, hitting my back on the wall as I gritted my teeth. Wormtail. Wormtail was there, too.
I followed the long sliver of golden light shining across the floor, reaching out for the frame of the door and peered inside. The grate at the end of the room had been lit with fire, casting long shadows across the walls. I turned my right ear toward the door, leaning my head closely. Wormtail, I recognized, put down a bottle of whiskey on the table and then dragged an elegant chair into place.
"Where is Nagini?" said Voldemort.
"I — I don't know, My Lord," Wormatail stuttered. "She set out to explore the house, I think…"
"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail. I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."
Frowning, I opened the door a little and leaned closer.
"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"
"A week, perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."
"The — the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?" said Wormtail. "Forgive me, but — I do not understand – why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"
"Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait."
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Your Lordship is still determined, then?" Wormtail said quietly.
"Certainly I am determined, Wormtail."
"It could be done without Harry Potter, My Lord."
Voldemort paused.
"Without Harry Potter?" he breathed. "I see…"
"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. "The boy is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard — any wizard — the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while — you know that I can disguise myself most effectively — I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person —"
"I could use another wizard, that is true…" the wistful way his voice sounded made me shiver slightly.
"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult, he is so well protected —"
"And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder… perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?"
"My Lord! I — I have no wish to leave you, none at all —"
"Do not lie to me!" hissed the second voice. "I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me…"
"No! My devotion to Your Lordship —"
"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?"
"But you seem so much stronger, My Lord —"
"Liar," breathed the second voice. "I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care. Silence!"
Wormtail obeyed. I held the door frame tightly, my other hand trembling.
"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail — courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldermort's wrath —"
"My Lord, I must speak!" said Wormtail, panic in his voice now. "All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head — My Lord, Bertha Jorkin's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I murder —"
"If?" whispered the second voice. "If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition… Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us —"
"I am a faithful servant," said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.
"Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfill neither requirement."
"I found you," said Wormtail, sounding sulky. "I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins."
"That is true," Voldemort mused. "A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from you, Wormtail — though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?"
"I — I thought she might be useful, My Lord —"
"Liar," said Voldemort in cruel amusement. "However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform…"
"R-really, My Lord? What —?" Wormtail sounded terrified again.
"Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end… but I promise you, you will have the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."
"You… you… you… are going… to kill me too?" My eyes widened. I turned my head, trying to catch sight of anything at this rate.
"Wormtail, Wormtail, why would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns…"
"We could erase her memories..." Wormtail said.
Voldemort laughed, and talked as if he were scolding a child for his idiocy.
"Memory Charms can be broken, Wormtail, as proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to not use the information I extracted from her."
My teeth clenched as I imagined what that poor woman had to go through. I was no stranger when it came to him playing with minds.
"One more murder… my faithful servant at Hogwarts… Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument. But quiet… I think I hear Nagini… come, Nagini, come..."
And I heard movement coming from behind me in the dark passageway. Just as I turned to look, I froze, staring transfixed at the creature slithering down the corridor on the floor. The large snake's scales shone like emeralds in the dark, its yellow eyes staring directly at my form.
What was I going to do? It was either getting eaten by the snake or be murdered by Voldemort!
But then the snake just passed under my legs and went inside the room, lulled by its master's cold voice. I realized then that Voldemort had been speaking Parseltongue for a while.
"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail," said Voldemort.
"In-indeed, My Lord?"
"Indeed, yes," said the voice, "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say."
"Wha - a Muggle?" I breathed. Before I could run, the door was pulled open and I was nose-to-nose with Peter Pettigrew. Frozen in fear, I stared at him, shocked.
"Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?" Against all my instincts, I carefully stepped inside the room. I took a glance at Nagini and stopped over the threshold, standing behind Voldemort's chair. For some strange reason, his head didn't seem to even reach the top of the chair.
"You heard everything, Muggle?" I opened my mouth, outraged but instead of telling him what I wanted, I heard myself say, "What's that you're calling me?"
What is happening?!
"I am calling you a Muggle," said the Voldemort coolly. "It means that you are not a wizard."
You're wrong. My name is Anya Barton and I'm student at Hogwarts, and I am in my fourth year!
"I don't know what you mean by wizard." I wanted to cry. Was I hexed to voice anything but the truth? "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You've done murder and you're planning more! And I'll tell you this too, my wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back —"
"You have no wife! Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows… he always knows…"
Almost sobbing, I said, "Is that right? Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, My Lord. Turn 'round and face me like a man, why don't you?"
"But I am not a man, Muggle," said Voldemort, whose voice was barely audible now over the crackling of the flames."I am much, much more than a man. However… why not? I will face you… Wormtail, come turn my chair around."
Pettigrew whimpered.
"You heard me, Wormtail," growled Voldemort. Looking as though he wished to do anything but that, Peter Pettigrew slowly began to turn the chair.
And then the chair was facing me. I snapped my eyes tightly shut and let out a scream.
"Avada Kedabra!"
I continued screaming, haltering, when there was a thud. Horrified, I looked down at the body of an old man, his eyes staring up at me with utmost fear, even though he was already dead.
"Hello Anya Barton," said the loathsome creature in the chair. "We have been expecting you."
"No," Anya gasped. "It was something much more worse."
Marie leaned back. "What could possibly be more terrible than him?"
Anya shook her head and motioned at her journal. Just as Marie handed it over, she quickly began to make lines and lines with her pencil, slowly forming a small shape in the thick page.
When Anya showed her the drawing, Marie couldn't hide her disgust. She dropped the journal, as if the small notebook had been set on fire like its predecessor.
Staring back at her was an ugly version of a child, curled, hairless and scaly looking, its face flat and snake-like. The only color Anya had added was in the eyes, a deep shade of red.
"Voldemort," said Anya quietly. "Not Riddle but the Voldemort that caused the war. And he's planning to kill Harry this year."
Despite her friend looked completely terrified, Marie couldn't help but snort and said, "When isn't he?"
And this is where everything starts. A prelude to the Second War.
I changed the stories' titles because I wanted to keep the first version of Fourth Year. I grew very fond of it and I consider it my first success. Hopefully, this one will attract just as many readers as that one.
Which House do you want Marie (Mah - ree - eh) to get sorted in? I have put a poll of it in my biography, so please vote! If you don't have an account or don't want to vote, share your opinion on a review. Personally, I think she would do well in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. She's too sneaky to be a Gryffindor and doesn't interact much to be in Hufflepuff.