Hello everyone! This is written for Round 7 of the QLFC. Also written for the Hunger Games Competition, for President Snow's prompt!
The first human to see Lord Voldemort after his fall is a Muggle woman.
She is far too absorbed in her business of tending to a young bird with a broken wing, a useless act that disgusts Lord Voldemort above the fact that she is a Muggle, to catch sight of him, but when she enters the clearing, she pulls on her shawl and adjusts her sweater.
"Come, little bird," says the woman, kneeling to the ground. The soothing tone makes Lord Voldemort angry.
"He will die." The high, cold sound is no more than a whisper, but it takes much of his energy and more. The darkness envelops him, welcoming their lord with open arms.
The panic on the woman's face as she stands up gives Lord Voldemort pleasure as he has not felt in nine years.
"Who's there?" calls the woman. Her voice is high as well, but from raw fear.
"The bird will die."
The Muggle shakes, her eyes darting from left to right, though it is impossible to make sight of anything in the shadows of the dark trees and she knows it.
"A fine Gryffindor you would make," Lord Voldemort says.
To her everlasting credit, the Muggle woman does not back down. "I - Who are you? Sh-show yourself!"
"Show myself?" Lord Voldemort does not normally follow Muggle orders, but it's been years since he has had this opportunity.
The woman screams. She turns back to the path she has come from, leaving the bird with the broken wing behind to chirp feebly and wonder where its saviour has gone.
When the woman reaches the village, she will tell them about a monster, a terrible beast with a terribly high-pitched voice, hiding within the concealment of the forest. She will explain in depth the cold, empty face, if it can even be called that, that is both haunting and ensnaring in the most repulsive way. She will repeat the words of Lord Voldemort, though they will be altered through her panic-stricken tremors.
She will be dismissed as a fool; the poor thing has most tragically lost her mind.
The second person to see Lord Voldemort is, quite ironically, the former Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts.
Lord Voldemort knows the man is coming to speak to him the minute the former professor steps into the Albanian forest. He lets the man wander and wonder for a week before making his appearance, deeming him at least clever enough for knowing the approximate location of Lord Voldemort, for sensing his presence, and, most importantly, for searching for him.
"What do you seek?"
Quirinus Quirrell jumps a foot in the air, barely landing on his clumsy feet before collapsing into a kneel. "My lord, is it really you?"
It has been ages since he has heard someone address him with such reverence, and Lord Voldemort laughs.
"Quirinus Quirrell. What possibly could you seek from me?"
Voldemort knows that Quirrell is not shaking with excitement; he is shaking with fear. He is well aware that Quirrell is weak; however, this gives him hope. Lord Voldemort is stronger now. Perhaps Quirrell can be of use.
"My-my lord," quavers Quirrell. "I wanted to know - to ask of you -"
"You dare ask me of something while you are aware of my current form?"
Quirrell actually squeals in terror, a sound that Voldemort has only associated with Peter Pettigrew, but he supposes that in nine years something is always bound to change.
"No! No, of course not, my lord," Quirrell blubbers. He kisses the ground in front of him despite the fact that it is ridden with dried leaves and dead bugs.
"I am on your left side," Voldemort says amusedly.
"Oh - yes, of course." Quirrell turns his body, though his eyes do not even flick upwards. It is obvious that he is afraid of what he will see.
"You are cowardly, are you not?"
"I - my lord - no, I -"
"Stop. I do not wish to hear your senseless excuses. Yet it is true that you have searched for me, which is more than I can say for some of my...followers. However, there is little that I believe you could give me in return for my services…"
"I will give anything for your secrets," Quirrell says, further prostrating himself before Voldemort. "Everything." But he is still shaking and his eyes have not left the ground, as if there is something much more riveting on the ground as opposed to seeing Lord Voldemort in the flesh (though it cannot really be called flesh).
"There is but naught you could give me. You are a coward. You are not capable of what my Death-Eaters could do. You are no longer staff at Hogwarts, but even if you were, I would not prefer someone who spends their lives teaching about Muggles…"
"Oh, but my lord, there is an opening at Hogwarts!" says Quirrell, his black eyes shining with delight at the prospect of actually being of use to Voldemort.
"What position?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," breathes out Quirrell.
"I would have thought that Severus would take it," murmurs Voldemort. "Very well. Secure the job."
"Yes! Yes, of course I will," says Quirrell, relieved he has not been killed yet.
"Quirrell. Look up."
For a moment, it seems that Voldemort's new recruit will not oblige. His eyes actually squeeze shut for a moment, and if Voldemort had eyebrows, they would raise beyond his hairline. But then the black irises are visible, and Quirinus Quirrell's eyes lift from the ground, slowly, very slowly.
From that day on, his speech is never the same.
Peter Pettigrew is the third to grace Lord Voldemort's presence, and he brings along with him a blubbering woman by the name of Bertha Jorkins.
"My lord," says Peter, prodding the woman with his wand. "My lord."
"Wormtail." Speech is easy for him now. Lord Voldemort is stronger, stronger than he has been for thirteen years.
"My lord!" Peter falls to the ground. The woman freezes at the sound of Voldemort's voice.
"You are a traitor."
"No! My lord, I only -"
"Pathetic."
"- please, my lord -"
"Useless."
"- please, I brought Bertha Jorkins -"
"You have only come to me because there is nowhere else for you to go."
"No, my lord, it isn't true, it isn't!" Peter squeaks.
"Do not interrupt me!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"You are here because you're afraid of your old school friends… But why? Why not go into their warm embrace, embrace the werewolf and escaped prisoner? Or are they too angry that you are responsible for the deaths of Lily and James Potter? Peter Pettigrew," the Dark Lord laughs before his face contorts into absolute anger, "you dare come here when you are responsible for my downfall?!"
"No!" wails Peter, using a spell to shift Bertha Jorkins so that the woman is in front of him. It is a cowardly sight - the captor hiding behind his prisoner. He trembles.
"I am merciful, Wormtail. Because of that, and because you have had the stroke of genius to bring this woman here, you will live."
"Thank you, my lord!" gasps Peter. "Thank you! I am not deserving of this, my lord gives me more than I possibly -"
"Do not try too hard, or you will convince me that I need to murder you."
"Of course not, of course not, my lord!"
Voldemort laughs. "Wormtail, you are pathetic. If one of my servants were to come to me, I would not wish it to be you. However, you are here, and if you can aid me in my return to the Wizarding World, you shall be rewarded greatly. I only wonder if you are capable of that."
Peter's eyes shine with tears, though Lord Voldemort knows they aren't of devotion, just of the blend of fear and happiness he is alive.
"Of course, my lord!"
His voice wavers.
That day, Lord Voldemort leaves the Albanian forest.
He does not return.
Thanks for reading!
-Summer :)
