Chapter Six: The Charge of the Mighty Tonks
The next few days passed quietly enough. Occasionally, one member or other of the Order called at the house and left a message, or collected one. Harry might have felt frustrated that Dumbledore had not said more to him since their last meeting- if he were not now so determined to enjoy his time with his friends while it lasted.
There were shadows too, of course. The four teenagers had decided to keep the incident with Kreacher private- everyone else assumed him to have been long gone anyway, and Hermione spent at least part of every day in the house library, searching for a suitable binding oath to use. They were aware that Arthur and Molly would probably frown upon them using binding magic- especially when it was likely of a fairly Dark nature, and would, at the least, want to know the reason, which would open up a whole can of worms Harry and the others did not wish to answer, so the adolescents kept themselves to themselves. Even the younger Order members- Fred, George, and Tonks, were kept in the dark.
The four were not unhappy though. Harry's breakdown had brought down many of the barriers which had grown up between them, and for a time they played like children, chasing up and down the corridors of the house, practising jinxes and mild curses more for the fun of it than for training, simply sharing in Harry's joy at finding he was not alone.
On the afternoon of 15th August, as they gathered again in Sirius' old room, well away from prying ears, Hermione entered last, almost dragging an enormous, black leather-bound book.
"Um, don't strain anything, Hermione," Ron remarked, putting his own hands behind his back, and enduring the blood-curdling glare he subsequently received.
"The boy has the manners of a toad," the witch noted, gratefully accepting Harry and Ginny's assistance to lift the heavy book on to the bed. Ginny giggled.
"You'd better apologise to Trevor for that, when we next see Neville," she grinned. Ron winced.
"Hey, before you all take her side, she dropped that thing on my foot three times when we were trying to get it out of the library," he protested. "I'll be crippled for life!"
"Better stand down and let me be Quidditch captain then," Harry commented distractedly, studying the pentagram-like sigil inlaid in silver on the book's somewhat damp cover.
"Not on your life!"
"I'm still amazed Hermione managed to get you into a library outside of term time in the first place, mate," Harry murmured, tracing the silver with his finger. Ron spluttered, until Ginny broke in.
"Oh, I think she used the same method you used to get Cho Chang to join the DA last year, Harry," the female redhead smirked, sitting next to him on the blankets.
"Really?" Harry looked over his glasses at Ginny. "Well, at least…" He got no further.
"When you've quite finished," Hermione said, tartly. "Ron and I are, in case you've forgotten, Harry, trying to help." Harry blanched slightly, and the bushy-haired witch laid an apologetic hand on his arm. "I've found what might be a suitable oath… although it'll take most of the rest of the summer to prepare the ritual."
"Let's hear it." Harry swung his legs back under him and sat up attentively, his face growing almost instantly impassive. That draining of feeling that had so worried Hermione and himself at the start of the holidays had become almost a habit now- brought under control and worked into his Occlumency exercises. It could still be disconcerting- both to himself and others- but at least he'd turned a symptom into a talent.
Hermione nodded, and thumbed through the book to the right place.
"It's written in Old French," she apologised, "and my accent's not very good, so I won't try to read it aloud. You'd know what it meant if either of you had bothered to read any of the guides to Ancient Magical Tongues we've been given over the last few years," she added pointedly to Ron and Harry. "But since all your copies seem not to have been taken out of the original packaging… or, in the case of one, to have been turned into owl-bedding-" a hard look at Harry here, "… I'll translate as required. The oath requires those taking it to abjure from a particular spell, curse, or hex."
"That's what we want," Ron nodded to Harry. Harry gnawed on his lip. Hermione watched him for a moment, and then sighed.
"Since it's obviously on the tip of your tongue, Harry, it also arranges certain… consequences if the caster breaks the oath." She paused again, and met Ron's eyes for a minute.
"There are… two versions of the oath. The first reflects the curse back upon the caster. If one of us used the Cruciatus curse on Draco Malfoy, for instance, then he would be in pain, but so would the one who cast the spell. Not only that, but his pain would abate as the caster's ability to control the spell diminished, but the caster's pain would continue until the other people who took the oath- the other three of us- unanimously agreed to lift the curse from him or her. The results of using the Killing Curse are obvious, two dead instead of one… and the Imperius Curse would, I suspect, cause some sort of mental feedback loop effect, like having a loudspeaker too close to a microphone, which would do bad things to the spell-caster's brain." She looked at Harry, who was nodding, and then to Ron and Ginny, both raised in the wizarding world, who looked completely lost. "Never mind. The final decision is for all of us, I think, but I feel we ought to look at the other version of the oath."
"If Harry doesn't mind me saying so," Ginny said, "I don't think knowing that he was going to die doing it would stop him using the Avada Kedavra curse on Voldemort. In fact, I rather suspect it'd make you more ready to do it, Harry?"
Harry looked pained. "I don't want to ever cast that again," he said. "But… if I wanted to destroy Voldemort… if I had to do it, if nothing was stopping me… I don't know that I'd want to be around afterwards, no. Not if I knew I couldn't stick to not using the Unforgivables."
"The other version," Hermione broke in, watching Harry's face with some concern, "makes more use of the conjoined circle of the oath-takers, and relies upon a bond of friendship. Bluntly, in this version of the oath, the prohibited curse's power is spread around the other oath-takers. It wouldn't be enough to kill, in the case of the Avada Kedavra- just a quarter of the curse's power per person, but it would cause pain." She looked directly at Harry. "We place ourselves, our trust, our lives, in each other's hands. We are as strong as all four together."
Harry looked back, and smiled.
"You've obviously decided, 'Mione. Ron?" He looked up to his best friend's face. Ron glanced once down at Hermione, and gave a short nod.
"We've always trusted each other, haven't we?" he asked. "If we hadn't, the lot of us would have got killed long ago." He paused, then added, in a creditable impression of Hermione, "Or worse, expelled."
"Git," Hermione threw back over her shoulder. Harry turned to look at Ginny.
"What do you think, Gin?"
"I'm in." Ginny didn't hesitate. "With Hermione's brains, my looks, and you and Ron as cannon fodder, we can't fail."
"Then I guess it's up to me." Harry closed his eyes a moment. "Thank you… all of you. You don't have to do this for me, you know."
"Of course we do." Hermione snorted. "It just so happens that it was you… but there's that same temptation for all of us, Harry. Let's not make any bones about it, we're fighting a war against someone very powerful, and very evil. Any quick route to victory is going to be tempting… and if we're going to stop Voldemort without becoming Voldemort, we have to draw a line. For all of us."
"Then I say we go with it," Harry opened his eyes again. "What do we need to do?"
Hermione explained. Firstly, they needed some supplies- potion ingredients, certain markers and totems- ordinarily materials which they would have purloined from Snape's stores cupboard, but outside school would be forced to acquire somewhat more legitimately.
"We need to go to Diagon Alley," she finished. "The sooner the better, and we might as well get our schoolbooks for the next year while we're there." Ron groaned. "It would make a good cover story, Ron," she snapped.
"But how do we do that?" Ginny frowned. "Muggle London's one thing- no one's going to find you in all those crowds, but I can't see Mum letting us into Diagon Alley without a six-Auror guard this year."
"A one-Auror guard would probably be enough to keep the three of you safe," Harry broke in, his eyes glittering intently, "And would allow Hermione the chance to slip into the suppliers' she needs to visit, without anyone finding out."
"One guard?" Ron snorted. "You'd be lucky. It's all very well for Ginny to talk about Muggle London, but Hermione and me had to talk fast to get to go down Oxford Street without Mundungus Fletcher trailing after us," he grimaced. "Like a Death Eater would have a chance of getting us there. You-Know-Who would probably have got some fat American tourist's elbow in his face half-way through the Killing Curse."
"I don't think his nose could get any flatter," Harry murmured. "And Sturgis Podmore was following you that day, anyhow." The duo's faces fell. Harry grinned though. "However, there's Aurors and Aurors… and since the textbooks have got to be bought, Molly could only be pleased if we came up with someone inconspicuous who'd be able to keep an eye on us while keeping herself anonymous." He chuckled. "Let's ask Tonks if she feels like a bit of shopping."
The Underground was, Harry and Hermione had decided, not a place in which to put wizards. Strangely enough, although the Tube was strictly a Muggle enterprise officially, and no magic had gone into its making, on each occasion Harry had used it, nearly a third of the people he'd seen had been wizards. Sometimes wizards he knew, or recognised from Diagon Alley or other places, sometimes people he only guessed were wizards from their ill-conceived efforts to 'fit in', and ill-chosen clothes, and practically every time the train lurched to a halt, somebody's wand fell out of a pocket and was hastily retrieved. He'd forgotten how many times small red sparks shooting out of a dropped wand had been explained away with a muttered "Damn, my laser pointer's on the blink," or similar, from one unfortunate wizard or another. On one occasion, when two trains moved by each other in a tunnel junction, he was for a moment certain he'd seen Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge talking animatedly with Percy Weasley, but it had only been for a split-second.
Despite this near superfluity of wizard-kind, the fact remained that the Underground was not a wise place for them. They (as had previously been noted) dropped their wands. Their children's accidental magic interfered with the power grid and stranded trains between stations for hours. They occasionally got over-excited on the platform when a train rushed out of the tunnel, and attempted to Stun it. They got bored and cast Vanishment charms on the information screens. Occasionally, they even found the station they had meant to get to, and returned to the comparative sanity of the magical world, but this was very rare, or so it seemed to Harry. Tonks was a relatively worldly-wise young witch, but even she, Harry and Hermione agreed, would have to be cured of saying 'Wotcher' to everyone she bumped into in the carriage, and had to be reminded each time to hang on when the train stopped and started, or she would fall on top of one of the teenagers in a heap. On one occasion, Ginny declared that the somewhat clumsy young Auror appeared to have at least sixteen elbows and thirty knees, all of them sharp.
One odyssey later, the five of them scrambled out into the light, and made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron. As they stood in the back yard, letting Ginny mark out the sign on the bricks, Tonks took Harry aside.
"Right, now maybe you'll let me know why you lot asked for me, specially for this little trip of yours?" she regarded him with narrow eyes. "Last I checked, I didn't read 'Nanny' in my job description."
"Um, because you're young and fun to be with?" he offered.
"You're too honest to make a good liar, Potter," Tonks stuck her tongue out at him. "Lying takes practice."
"How about not noticing things about what your friends are doing, that you think your friends' parents would like you to notice?" Ginny asked over her shoulder.
"If that made sense," Tonks rolled her eyes, "That would be good lying practice, yeah, but a young and devilishly beautiful metamorphmagus Auror would probably lie better on a full stomach, and after a glass of Firewhisky."
"Well," Harry skipped lightly out of reach, "Since Nymphadora Tonks is the only one of us here who's old enough to buy Firewhisky in the Leaky Cauldron…" she held a finger up, and her hair turned blonde.
"Old enough to buy it, not the only one old enough to pay for it, Potter. Cough up, and I'll get you lot Butterbeers as well. Then we'll go shopping. Mind, I don't say I'll let you lot go gallivanting round on your own- Molly would rip me limb from limb if anything happened to any of you- but I'll turn a blind eye so long as what you're up to isn't too dangerous."
"Deal, Nymphadora." Harry smirked.
"Behave, Potter, or Nanny will smack your behind." Tonks glared at him. Harry grinned cheekily and, exchanging an evil wink with Ginny, responded:
"Later, maybe, if I don't get a better offer."
When Tonks had had her liquid lunch and bribe, the five of them continued into the Alley. All five were struck by how much quieter it had become than in previous years. They looked around. Yes, the alley still bustled with witches and wizards going about their affairs, buying, selling, gossiping… but somehow the brightness, the animation, the sparkle, had faded. Movement across the street seemed hurried, uncertain, and it was not unusual to see furtive, fearful glances cast about.
"This place- with so many in one place," Tonks breathed sadly, "Molly's right, it is a target… and everyone knows it."
Harry exchanged looks with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. He'd effectively pledged to the Order that he was going to do what he could to change that, and even though he still had no idea how to begin, the responsibility of that pledge was beginning to settle upon him, as he looked at the bustling street of wizards, so much of its noise and jollity now silenced by apprehension.
Where do I start?
He checked himself with a memory.
"Tonks," he began, "D'you mind if we split up, just for a moment? Ron and Hermione have got their… errand to run, you know, the one that you're going to forget about, and I need to go to Ollivander's. The other four glanced at him, a little surprised. He shook his head.
"It's for Neville, remember? That… Death Eater," he searched for a better word, and failed, "… snapped his wand in half. I told him at the end of last term that I'd arrange a replacement for him. He'll have to select it himself, I know, but since it was DA business, I feel I ought to pay for it in advance." He frowned. "Also… I thought if it was presented to him by the Order- well, he was really upset because it was his dad's wand, and Mr Longbottom used to be in the Order, so I hoped that might make it all right. A bit." He finished, with a grimace. To his surprise, Tonks slapped him on the back.
"Good one, Harry. You'll be a good leader one day. It's called 'duty of care', and you're right, we do owe him. Listen, that mess in the Ministry was Order business, even if it was your Army that got caught in the thick of it, so let's do it together. We'll take Ginny, Ron and Hermione down to Pinchmeal and Grind's Magical Binding Artefacts- I know Ayliss Pinchmeal, friendly she isn't, but she's certainly not a spy for the Death Eaters, and then the two of us'll go up to Ollivander's Wands while they're browsing." She chuckled. "That way I really didn't see them buying anything they shouldn't. Now, about Neville's wand," she began, as they made their way along the street, "D'you know much about it? The usual way if you're buying a replacement wand for someone- happens all the time- is to give old Ollivander the run-down on the old wand, then for him to tell you he knew already, he remembers every wand, blah-blah-blah, then he 'senses' you, sort of feels round your magic for traces of the other person you're buying it for, and he draws up a short list of about ten wands or so for the person to choose from."
Harry looked perplexed.
"I don't… I mean, I know Neville, and his magic's strong- he sometimes can't do much with it, but I think that's just him getting the wrong end of the stick, he's not actually a squib or anything, look how well he did in the DA last year… but I don't know much about the wand."
"I do." Ginny marched up alongside him. "Holly," she remarked, "which fits with him sharing your birthday, Harry," she added, with a sidelong glance, "cored with a strand of unicorn hair. I tried to fix the thing so he could use it properly once, the year before last," she explained, "But there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. I mean, I'm not an expert like Mr Ollivander, but…" she shook her head. "Well, I can't explain it in words, it just felt as if it wasn't the wand that was the problem."
Tonks gave Ginny a queer look.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," the young Auror muttered. "Well, yes, that's the third time I've heard you talk about 'feeling' your way around magic." She frowned. "That's not all that common a talent, Ginny. Most witches or wizards who have it are quite powerful."
"She's that all right!" Ron laughed. "When she was a baby, she turned everyone in the house blue for a day and a half."
"Yes, thank you Ronald," Ginny hissed.
"Remind me to stay on your good side," Harry told her. "Anyway, can I ask you for some help with this wand business then?"
"I would be delighted." Ginny grinned, and took Harry's arm. Tonks seized his other elbow, and they set off down the street at a run, half lifting an alarmed looking Harry as they went along.
"Those two are as bad as each other," Hermione shook her head. "Come on, we'd better follow them, or Tonks will forget all about showing us the way to Pinchmeal's."
Ron grinned. "Harry and Ginny are good for each other though," he commented. "They… well, they get on really well, and it cheers him up, doesn't it? It's a shame Ginny and Dean are…" He stopped, at the expression on Hermione's face. "What? " he asked. "What?"
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione laughed. "If Ginny catches you matchmaking for her, she'll probably make you into matchsticks herself. Come on, let's go shopping."
"Vanilla and coffee." Ginny offered Harry the remaining ice cream cone, and sank into the opposite chair. They were sitting outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying some moments of bright sunshine on an otherwise dismal afternoon. Harry blinked, and- after checking with his free hand that his wand was somewhere he could easily reach it if need be, tasted the ice cream.
"Sorry, I was miles away."
"Not for the first time." She shook her head, making her hair sparkle copper in the sunlight. "That's the fourth time you've checked your wand, and Tonks has only been gone five minutes."
"She told me to look after you while she was chasing after the others," Harry told her. "I'm not going to let either of you down, thanks."
"Harry, I have a wand too, remember. I'm perfectly capable of hexing Lucius Malfoy into next week," she smiled. "After I stuff that damned diary down his throat and set fire to it, that is."
"Hm." Harry chuckled. "I remember a Virginia Weasley who wouldn't say boo to a goose, never mind beating up Death Eaters."
"You wait till you hear what I'm planning to do to Little Tommy." She grinned evilly, and rather spoiled the effect by licking her ice cream.
"Would a Sticking Charm, the back end of a Hippogriff, and several gallons of 'Runyman's Patent Mixture for the Regular Bowel Movements of Magical Beasts' have anything to do with it?" he enquired, innocently. Ginny gave a slightly crazed grin, and Harry winced.
"Hey, he's my evil nemesis," he complained. "Pretty soon I'll have to be protecting him from you. Maybe I should warn Dean he's dating the new Dark Lady."
"Dark Lady, I could get used to that," Ginny chuckled, and then did a brief double-take. "Sorry, Dean? As in Dean Thomas? What's he got to do with any of this?"
"Er, Dean as in your boyfriend?" Harry blinked, having slightly lost the plot.
"Oh…" Ginny blushed red. "Oh… er… yes, that Dean. Of course, my lovely boyfriend Dean, who I'm going out with very much, and… er…" she struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Look, just don't tell Ronniekins, all right?"
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Do I gather you're not going out with him?" He wrinkled his brow. "Funny that… I could have sworn I remembered a conversation on the way back from school at the start of the summer. Remember, Ginny? We'd just heard from you that Michael Corner was going out with Cho-" oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all, "and you told Ron you'd chosen Dean instead, and asked if he was any better?"
"Ohhh…" Ginny giggled. "Well, er, you see, Harry… like I said, don't tell Ron, but that was a bit of a…"
"Lie?" he supplied. "Fib? Wrongdoing? Government statement?"
"That kind of thing," she blushed. "If I didn't mention someone then Ron would have kept badgering me about it all summer- now that he's found out I've got a love-life, he'll be completely obsessed, I know he will… and Dean just popped into my head."
"You do realise how much the poor boy's going to have to put up with from Ron this term, if your brother thinks he's going out with you, don't you?"
"I'll pay him!" Ginny protested. "Dean's hopeless at Transfiguration, and I'm rather good at it. I'll offer to help him with his homework."
"What about if Dean meets someone he likes?" Harry gaped at her. "I wouldn't like to think how many pieces Ron would tear him into if he thought Dean was cheating on you."
"Oh, Harry, it was only a short-term thing," Ginny laughed. "Just to get Ron off my back a bit. A couple of days into term and my brother will be up to his eyebrows in backlogs of homework, and then he probably wouldn't notice if I started dating Malfoy. Or Parvati."
Harry turned scarlet. Ginny stuck out her tongue at him.
"Gotcha."
"Still," Harry grinned, teasingly. "It must mean something, that you picked Dean out."
"What?" she asked. "It had to be someone in your year- I'm not having Ron pick on someone younger- and a Gryffindor, for the joke to work… and I don't know any of the seventh years. So who else? Seamus Finnegan? "
"Nothing wrong with Seamus." Harry said, loyally. Even though he'd had his differences with the boy last year, they were still old friends.
"Nothing a good bath and banning from a Quidditch pitch for life wouldn't sort out, if that isn't too sensitive a subject! Half the reason Michael and I split up was that he was completely obsessed with Quidditch…"
"This, coming from our only Chaser. I think Ron needs to know about this," Harry needled.
"Harry, there's liking Quidditch, and there's having the word 'Firebolt' magically written on certain parts of your anatomy."
"I beg your pardon?" Harry's jaw dropped. Ginny sighed, and went on, tartly:
"Lavender Brown doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut, and that's the reason I know. It's also the reason she knows, but we won't go there."
"No, Virginia, let's not. In fact, I recommend that we call in Ministry Obliviators as soon as possible."
"Trust me, if you worked with those clowns you'd think twice about letting them near anybody's memory." A hand clapped down on Harry's shoulder, and a second later its owner found herself sprawled in the road, Harry's wand levelled between her eyes. He blinked twice, and flushed crimson.
"Tonks?" Harry croaked, mortified. "I'm sorry… I thought… well, I wasn't thinking, and when you just popped up and put your hand on my shoulder…" he shook his head violently, and offered her his hand.
"That's the second pretty girl the boy's mistaken for You-Know-Who," Fred- who was standing, along with George, beside Ron and Hermione, who had watched Tonks' mistake with a sort of horrified fascination, remarked.
"True," George rejoined. "And he isn't even old enough to get drunk yet." Tonks glared at them, gratefully accepting Harry's hand.
"Idiots," she commented. "And me too. Sorry, Harry, my fault." She winked at Ginny. "He certainly takes 'look after Ginny' to heart, doesn't he?"
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Fred and George thundered. "And we'll have you know, Harry," one twin started,
"That assaulting the latest love of our life," the other- Harry thought it was Fred, since it was wearing a sweater with a 'G' embroidered on it,
"Cannot go unrewarded," George finished, and produced a sweet from his pocket with a flourish. "Exploding humbug?"
Tonks' hair developed a black-and-white chessboard pattern, and her nose pointed menacingly at the Weasley twins.
"Refer to me as the 'love of your life', 'sweetheart', or anything like that again, Fred and George Weasley," she growled, "And I will reveal to your mother exactly what you were up to on July 5th. Do I need to elaborate?" The twins fell silent.
"I've had to put up with them all my life, Tonks," Ron sighed. "They don't get any better."
"Did you find the…" Harry glanced at Tonks, "What you were looking for?"
Hermione nodded.
"It's all there. Now, you three, schoolbooks. March!"
"Night, Harry." Ron turned over under his blankets. Harry murmured a good night of his own, over on his side of the room, and turned down the light. He rolled over, letting his mind subside into a pleasant state of half-sleep. He wasn't quite ready to let go of consciousness just yet. All the happy memories of the day seemed to be drifting about somewhere in his brain. Tonks telling him he'd make a good leader, he cared about his friends- and then teasing him about being protective of Ginny. Ron and Hermione, caught nearly kissing in Flourish and Blott's later in the afternoon. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on with those two, really- they didn't appear to be 'going out', in any recognisable sense, but their lips had a knack of finding one another whenever they thought they were left alone, unless they occupied themselves busily by talking- preferably arguing. So, as a result, the two now seemed to deliberately pick fights with each other- not that there was any noticeable difference between them fighting on purpose and just fighting because they were Ron and Hermione, of course. They seemed to be working on the principle that using their mouths to argue and score points off each other constantly was the best way to prevent their lips getting stuck together.
Harry wondered, with a sly smile, just where that left him. Isolated? He didn't feel isolated by the new developments. After all, he could talk to Ginny. That thought started another train of thought, which he quickly halted for being ridiculous. After all, she was practically his sister. Sometimes, Mr Potter, an ice cream and a bit of friendly banter in the sunshine is just what it seems and nothing more, he told himself. All right then, Harry, enjoy it for what it seems. He nodded happily to himself. Too much of his life revolved around the end of the world, and Voldemort, Potions Essays and other dreadful things. He decided he actually didn't give a damn about whether he had more serious things to be worrying about. Sorry, Voldie, but I can't play your game all the time, he smirked, and, happily dreaming of summer time and friendship, drifted into sleep.
PAIN
FEAR
DEATH
AVADA KEDAVRA
HELP ME
NO HELP WILL COME
He strode into the Muggle dwelling, looking about himself for the sacrifices. Yes… there they were. Bellatrix, her eyes alight with their usual delight at fulfilling his will, stood behind the dining chairs, her wand dancing over the faces of the three sitting in them. The father, a fat, bald man in his forties, was writhing and twitching against his bonds, his eyes rolling back in his head, and an ululating wail coming from his mouth. Inspecting him more closely, Voldemort noted with amusement that the man had bitten out his own tongue.
"Yesss… Bella, your gifts with Cruciatus are unmatched, my dear… do pray, continue," he hissed, and turned to regard the man's wife and child, shrinking into their seats in terror. Smiling, he reached out a hand, and caressed the child's jaw. A girl, about twelve. For the moment the thought of giving her to his Death Eaters for amusement crossed his mind, but he decided against it. Too… sordid. Too easy. No, this particular strike should be demonstration of the magical arts.
He smiled again, his pointed teeth licked by a forked tongue. With a gesture from him, Pettigrew scurried forward, pressing the hilt of a long, saw-edged knife into his hand. Voldemort severed the woman's ropes with a word, and then threw the knife down on the table in front of her. Then he turned his inner eye upon himself, and tilted his head back with glee.
"Potter… stay with us a while. Stay, Potter, stay and watch with me. I would entertain you before I destroy you," he whispered to the awareness he could sense within him, clear again after so many weeks deadened by Occlumency. He could feel the boy's sleeping mind revolting, trying to tear itself away to wakefulness- but no, no, he would not end their connection until he was finished.
The woman, meanwhile, had snatched up the knife, and lunged at him. He met her with his wand.
"Imperio." She froze, and, still pointing with the wand, he gestured towards first the knife in the Muggle woman's hand, and then to her tied daughter. "Take her apart," he purred. "Piece by piece."