Flying under the pale moon, subtly illuminating the night, with my closest friends was paradise. We passed over the arched silhouettes of werewolves, their wicked howls lingering in the still air. All of us resembled flickering black flames as our obsidian cloaks billowed in the gusts of wind. Lord Voldemort doesn't require us to wear our masks while flying, since the darkness that surrounds us is so thick; we just strap our masks to our belts. Ron is off to the left, Draco to the right, leaving me to guard Harry. His face looked very passive, as he let the power of the Dark Lord carry him away in the night. Harry's eyes were closed, he often flew like this. While the other Death Eaters thought it was strange, all of us in DE Unit 934: Juniors in Interrogation have gotten used to it. Blaise tried it once, nearly cost him his life! Harry says he just focuses on being with our master, and he just... floats. No one else attempted the feat after Zabini, and were wise not to. Blaise crashed into "Big Ben" and broke his nose, fractured a rib, and ruptured his spleen. That was a month ago, and even with all of the healers that crossed over to Lord Voldemort's side, he is still in recovery.

I was the one who spotted the Riddle Manor, even darker against the deep blue sky, like a shadow on the surrounding village of Little Hangleton. We landed on a street called Signor Avenue. We couldn't fly past that point, nor apparate, since the Dark Lord had wards setup that prevent that. We would have had to walk another mile, but luckily, Ron spotted three mopeds, one with a sidecar. It was too perfect. I was the only one who suspected anything, and the boys could be so thick sometimes, so they told me to stop being a buzz kill. So, we walked over to them, me still suspicious, until Ron yelped. "Scabbers! I mean Wormtail! I mean Pettigreee-ooohh never mind! What chu walking 'round my feet for, rat." Ron spit venomously as the mousy-looking man shifted back human. Even if he is Snape's lackey, none of us have a shred of respect for the idiot. I don't care who's side you're on, selling out your bestfriends, that is sonot cool!

"Masters Weasley, Malfoy, Potter, and Mistress Granger, Severus has sent me to ensure you lot get to the manor in time for the ceremony." He said giddily, his hands motioning with every word. He exhaled anxiously, leading me to believe that the Dark Lord will take more convincing than we thought. "Thank you, Wormtail. Good to you." I say with a false smile, then I hopped onto the moped with the side car, yanking Harry along with me. Draco shooed him off finally, and Ron boarded the third moped.

We sped down the Avenue, ignoring all of the bowing witches and wizards rising from their pavilion tables at local eateries, and the occasional eye-roll from a lower-ranked Death Eater. A lot of them are a bit older than we are, but since we are higher up, they are forced to respect us. Draco gets the worst of it, since he murdered his father, but the lot of them got over it when they heard the full story. Now they all view us as a group of mad, bloodthirsty, kids, which I would say is a compliment. We managed to arrive in 4 minutes flat, and rushed through the tall wrought iron gates that towered menacingly above. They creaked shrilly as Ron pushed open one side, the wicked spikes on the bottom running along the lush lawn. Peter made an entrance, and led us up the winding gravel path to the large mahogany doors. When the crunching footsteps ceased, a flick of his wand caused the grotesque gargoyle knocker to lift from the wood, and fall smoothly back onto the door, echoing a thunderous bang! throughout the dim night. Before the door opened, we placed on our masks, and properly put Harry in restraints. Lord Voldemort does not do "lenient" when it comes to acts of treason.

"Enter." Boomed the ever calm voice of Severus, and the door opened silently, gliding across Slytherin-green plush carpet. Second to the carpets, the first thing you notice when you enter the Riddle Manor is the crystal chandelier floating above the circular front-room. Next you're likely to notice the dark-wood stairs curving around the room, the carpet continued up them in a centered strip, and the gleaming silver handrails trailing parallel, all leading up to endless hallways for visitor housing and high-profile interrogation. Last but not least, the Dark Lord's throne stands between the intertwining flights, the stairs resembling the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets as they snake up an d around the walls of the Manor. It was decorated with Silver and Emerald, the feet of it bronze, along with the engravings. Lord Voldemort was seated serenely, his piercing eyes looking to us expectantly. Luckily we caught on quick, and took a knee, well all of us except Harry, who looked conflicted about the whole thing. His face contorted from defiant grins to pleading dread. His mind had to have been tampered with!

"My Lord, we come to you with the news of our previous interrogation with Potter. The results were inconclusive, but we have reason to believe the Order has attempted Legilimency to sway his stance on the war. Sometimes, his mind is clear, and he can see that his loyalties lie with you, my Lord. But others, he tries to speak ill of you, and vilify our cause, praising the Mudbloods and blood-traitors. Torturing him was futile, so I took it into my own hands. I tried a more subtle approach, and he started to open up to me. My Lord, all we are asking is for a second chance to help him. We all believe that Harry would never consciously defy you, and we will do whatever it takes to prove this to you, sir." I attempted to say that confidently, but it was obviously oozing with desperation. The Dark Lord also looked conflicted, but briefly, and I bet I was the only one to notice that flicker of indecisive behavior.

"Hermione Jean Granger, friend of Harry James Potter, leader of DE Unit 934: Juniors in Interrogation, I will ask you a series of questions. If you answer them all to my satisfaction, your request may be carried out, and you will be officially christened the brightest witch of your age." He took a deep drink from a goblet, handed by Sev, and refrained from smacking his lips afterwards, like a certain Weasley would have done without a second thought. Well, if answering a few questions right gets us what we want, I have no choice, its the only option. "I'm ready, sir." I said a bit more confidently than earlier, and rose from my knee, removing my mask. The others in DE Unit 934, Juniors in Interrogation followed suit, and the Dark Lord smiled. "Good."

To everyone's surprise he hopped up from his throne, and stood in the middle of the room. He proceeded with the most bizarre action ever: he closed his eyes and spun around, swinging his wand in large circles. Any other spectators would have cringed at such a sight, but those in DE Unit 934, Juniors in Interrogation were used to witnessing the most unusual sights; they knew that this was ritual of some sort, and they were in for a treat, or so they hoped.

Suddenly, we weren't in the front-room anymore. Instead, we were on the set of "Are You Smarter Than A Death Eater?" and I was seated in a desk between Dolohov and Crabbe Jr. I waved to Dolohov, and stuck my tongue out and Crabbe. He was also in DE Unit 934, Juniors in Interrogation, but was often off-duty, along with a few others. Lord Voldemort must have summoned him and 'Hov here for the game. When we're off-duty, this show and reading are my two favorite pastimes. It was slightly different from the Muggle-version, but still very much entertaining, and now I am a contestant!