Author's note: Let's try something else...Random break from Remus' point of view. Hope no one minds.
Chapter Eleven: A Report
Voldemort's eyes glinted crimson in the firelight, unreadable as he contemplated the war. A soft knock on the door of his office reached his ears, and he turned as one of his Death Eaters, Trace Parker, entered. His blond hair was disheveled, his clear blue eyes were clouded with pain and frenzy, and he was panting ever so slightly. He was in Muggle clothing, Voldemort noted, and it was streaked with sweat and dirt, as though he had fallen. A huge purplish bruise marred the left side of his face, arcing from his jaw to his eye, and his neck was also similarly marked.
Voldemort waited.
Parker, regaining a sense of propriety, threw himself at his master's feet. "My lord…" he began, but his voice faltered.
Elegantly, Voldemort replied, "What happened to you, Parker? Rise to your knees and look at me as you speak."
The blond man obeyed, glancing up at the Dark Lord's face. Quickly, he dropped his eyes, however, obviously too frightened to maintain eye contact. "My lord, you sent me to spy on the werewolf, Lupin. He's in London—"
"And yet you are not. Do you see how this might be a problem?" Voldemort interrupted, voice silky.
Parker swallowed nervously. "I did as you instructed, my lord. The first night, he stayed in an abandoned Muggle home. Shortly after one in the morning, he came out looking distinctly disturbed by something. I checked the house—he killed a Muggle."
"And why does this matter to me?"
"Well, then I followed him across London. He stopped at…eleven Grimmauld Place. He stayed overnight, and then came out today. He found me…saw me…something. He knew I was spying on him. He knows all the side streets, all the tucked away alleys—he led me through a maze, my lord, and I did not even really know where we were. He nearly choked me for spying on him and he said…he said to tell you that he understands why you sent me, but that he needs his security too. And he told me that if you have a problem with that, you should summon him, my lord, and you can discuss it with him. He's insane, my lord, let me caution you."
Voldemort's lips were curved in a very faint smile. "I see. And I suppose he gave you those injuries for your trouble?" Trembling, not daring to so much as glance at his master, Parker nodded miserably. Voldemort's smile became more pronounced. "Look at me, Parker," he commanded. Shaking even more, Parker looked up into the Dark Lord's face. Voldemort caught his eyes and held them, probing the Death Eater's mind for the memory of the assault. He watched from Parker's point of view as Lupin held him against a brick wall, cutting off his air. The werewolf was deadly calm and composed as he released Parker. Lupin had half turned away when something about him suddenly changed. His face, or his eyes, perhaps, took on a different quality, almost as if Lupin had become someone else. The werewolf abruptly spun, moving too fast for Parker to process, and struck him across the face with the back of his hand. Voldemort could sense Parker's pain at the blow, and he fell to the ground. When the Death Eater looked back up at Lupin, the werewolf had changed again. He was himself once more, staring down at Parker dispassionately, face inscrutable.
Voldemort released the memory as Parker began to climb back to his feet and run away.
He broke eye contact with the Death Eater, who promptly fell to the floor, gasping and cradling his head. Legilimency did not have to be a painful process, but Voldemort felt that it was a suitable reminder of his power. Sometimes his Death Eaters could be…overzealous.
"You were foolish to run from him," Voldemort murmured pensively.
On the ground, Parker gave a low groan. Voldemort gazed down at him.
"You may go, now. Find Lupin once more and tell him to meet me at St. Joseph's again. Tomorrow," Voldemort said. Parker climbed slowly to his feet, bowed deeply, and staggered from Voldemort's office. The door shut firmly behind him as Voldemort began to laugh, gleeful.
