Chapter Two
Chariot took a deep breath and gripped the tarnished handle of the silver water pitcher.

One…Two…Three…

The precautionary gulp of air she had taken was whipped from her lungs and she felt the familiar jerk at her navel when the Portkey was activated. When her feet hit solid ground again, Chariot's knees buckled and she fell to the floor.

She felt her eyes start to tear from the shock. Do not cry… Chariot instructed herself. She couldn't afford to be seen showing weakness. Gingerly, she got to her feet and brushed the invisible dust from her straight-legged black trousers. She heard someone moving around in the hall outside the room she was in so she shook out her hair and the bitter gleam slipped into her hazel-gray eyes.

A balding, squat man with small watery eyes hobbled through the doorway. He had receding, thin, greasy brown hair on his head. "The Dark Lord commands your presence immediately," he said, not directly addressing her though she was the only one there. His voice was feeble yet pompous.

"Wormtail," she said maliciously, ice dripping from the word. The slimy man loved to lord his closeness with the Dark Lord over her. Chariot didn't care. She, at least, had maintained a version of her dignity.

Head held high, eyes cold and fierce; a seventeen year old Chariot strode into the room to face him. Her heels clicked on the dark wooden floor of the lush sitting room. It had been two months since the meeting where Whitley had been tortured and had later died. Chariot had been on a new assignment since then.

Voldemort had called her here outside the weekly meetings; he was at a different residence. The room was dark all for a hot green fire blazing in the hearth. The only furniture undraped with the dusty white sheets was a red high-backed armchair and a lower, black velvet-lined stool. He sat in the great red chair, his blood-red snake eyes glaring serenely into the fire. The doorway into the room was placed on the left side if you faced the fireplace so the Dark Lord saw her come in.

"Chariot…" His voice was all steely warning. She wasn't wearing a robe today. The call to meet him with the use of a Portkey had come only that morning when she had only just collected her quota. He stood from his chair and walked over to her. It took all of Chariot's nerve to look him in the eyes. He raised his wand and Chariot restrained the urge to flinch. He mumbled something she couldn't hear and the door slammed shut behind her and she heard the clink of the locks bolting. "Do you have it?"

Chariot nodded and pulled a small parcel wrapped in brown paper from her pocket and put it in his large, deadly white, claw-like hands. "Here it is."

He walked away from her and ripped open the paper. "Good, good…" he said in no particular hurry then slipped the remains of the box into his robe.

Chariot's curiosity almost got the best of her and she almost asked him what was in the package she'd delivered. She'd bite her lip and kept silent instead.

"Sit," he commanded. Chariot obeyed and lowered herself to the velvet stool. For what seemed like silence so long that time had utterly stopped, the Dark Lord didn't speak, only continued to stare into the jade fire. "In the coming months, Chariot, you will be needed to…finish what we started."

She nodded, averting her eyes modestly at the floor. Chariot knew the dangers of defying Lord Voldemort. She had the crescent scar on the back of her neck to prove it.

"We will now be initiating our next stage. Understood?"

Chariot could see through this ploy. He was daring her to object. She knew better and only nodded.

"You are excused," he said and with another wave of his wand, the doors unshackled themselves and flung open. "Wait in the anteroom," he said as she rose and left.

From the anteroom, for the door was only halfway closed: no one had bothered to shut it properly after Chariot had left, she guessed it was intentional. Around here, everything happened for a reason. Chariot could hear Voldemort speaking to someone. Some Death Eater, Chariot assumed. It wasn't Wormtail. He strode away on his pudgy legs with arms crossed, glaring at her. There was a tiny flicker of fear in his diminutive eyes.

"Keep her safe, Lucius," he warned from within. They were talking about her, Chariot realized. "Her name alone has been compromised--we cannot risk her being discovered. Her potential power over them is too great…" The other man, Lucius Malfoy, mumbled something in agreement and Chariot heard a POP. He had Disaparated.

Wormtail again entered the anteroom where Chariot sat eyeing the water pitcher. It would only take her home again when the Dark Lord wished it.

"Prepare to leave, now," he spat. He obviously hadn't seen her spying. He would have rejoiced in criticizing her. "The Dark Lord sends the message that you may bring only whatever possessions you deem necessary. Is that clear?"

Chariot rolled her eyes. "Yes, it is. Now, remind me what wouldn't be clear, Wormtail," she practically spat on him.

He scowled and turned on heel, limping out. More than ready to go home, Chariot took the silver handle again and with a jerk, was back in safety. Breaking into Hogwarts. Impossible? No. Finishing the job? Chariot hoped not.


Hi again. Hope you enjoyed this chap. Since I'm uploading a bunch more in just a minute, you can press the next chap key and read on. Don't forget to review! Much love, hippy