I stand alone in the darkened room, listening to the sound of footsteps coming toward me. Keeping my eyes on the doorway, I watch as he comes into view.
The man tentatively steps into the room, as he glances around nervously. It takes a moment for his eyes to find me in the darkness, then he falls to his knees and crawls forward, placing his lips upon the hem of my robes.
"My Lord," he says, submissively.
"Rookwood," I reply, coolly. "You requested an audience with me."
"Yes, My Lord. I was speaking with Malfoy earlier today and he told me something I didn't realize before. About – about the prophecy."
He stops then, as though he is unsure how to proceed.
"Well, what is it?"
I feel a twinge of annoyance. This damn prophecy has caused nothing but distress for me. Once again, a task that should have been so simple has turned into one disaster after another. I'm really beginning to wonder about the capacity of many of my Death Eaters. Their years away from me seems to have softened them.
"I apologize, Master," Rookwood says, his voice still hoarse from his years in Azkaban. "I should have caught this issue before, when your plans were first explained, but it wasn't until today that I realized that Malfoy had Imperiused Bode to remove the prophecy."
"Yes."
I can hear the impatience in my own voice. The recently released Death Eaters had all been briefed on my plans to get the prophecy – this should not be new information to Rookwood.
"But it was impossible for Bode to take it, Master," Rookwood continues, speaking more quickly. "It's impossible for anyone at the Ministry to take it. You see, My Lord, once an item is shelved in the Hall of Prophecy, it falls under an enchantment and may then only be removed by the individuals whom they are about."
I repeat those words. "Whom they are about... so, the prophecy that I want…"
"Can only be removed by yourself or… or Harry Potter," Rookwood finishes.
Suddenly it all made sense. It wasn't Malfoy's fault that Bode failed. It wasn't even Bode's fault. But, which one led me to Bode…
Avery.
My hands find the chair in front of me, and they tighten around the velvet material as a surge of anger goes through my body. Of course, wretched Avery, who has been trying so hard to get back into my good graces of late. Offering up information at every chance. Apparently even information that he wasn't sure about himself.
"I have been badly advised it seems."
"Master, I crave your pardon," Rookwood says, with a tremble in his voice. He is obviously worried that he will be punished for delivering this news to me.
He won't be; Rookwood has done me no wrong.
"I do not blame you, Rookwood," I reply, as I walk closer to him.
He doesn't look up as I stand over him. He is terrified to make eye contact. Terrified to make any mistake at all.
"You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?"
"Yes, My Lord, yes ... I used to work in the Department after-after all ..."
"Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it."
"Bode could never have taken it, Master," Rookwood insists. "Bode would have known he could not ... undoubtedly, that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse ..."
I can hear the confidence in Rookwood's voice and I believe him.
"Stand up, Rookwood."
My servant quickly gets to his feet, eager to obey, and I am reminded once again how fortunate I am to have the imprisoned Death Eaters returned to me. Ten faithful, obedient followers who endured fourteen years of hell for me. Of course, not one of them came out of the prison unscathed. The Dementors had taken their toll on them – physically and mentally. Sometimes, I can hear them screaming in their sleep, as they dream about being trapped back on that island.
"You have done well to tell me this," I tell Rookwood. "Very well ... I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems ... but no matter ... we begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, Rookwood ..."
"My Lord ... yes, My Lord."
Rookwood's face reveals the relief he is clearly feeling; he will be permitted to leave this room unharmed. The same can't be said for the next man who enters this room.
"I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me."
Rookwood nods earnestly. "Of course, My Lord, of course ... anything ..."
For a moment, I consider getting more information out of him right now, but I decide it can wait. I have another matter to deal with.
"Very well ... you may go. Send Avery to me."
I watch as Rookwood quickly backs away with a bow, then disappears into the hall.
Alone again, I begin to pace the room, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that came over me while I was speaking to Rookwood. Not for the first time, I had a strange sensation that I'm being watched.
I glance around to see there if there was an old ghost floating around, or maybe Nagini had come into the room in search of some dinner. As my eyes search the black room, I suddenly see someone staring back at me. My hand reaches for my wand before I realize that I'm only seeing my reflection in an old mirror that was hanging on the opposite wall.
I walk toward it, looking at my reflection… my skin was pale as ever, my eyes shining red. They reflect the anger I feel at the news of this latest obstacle standing in the way of my prophecy.
Then, without warning, I feel a jerking sensation within my body, as though something was being ripped out of me. I had felt it before and I now understand why I felt as though I was being watched: the boy was in my head again. Just like that night at the Ministry when I was possessing Nagini.
How much did Potter see or hear this time? This strange connection between myself and Potter troubles me, and I feel certain that the answer lies in the prophecy. The one I will now have to get myself… or get Potter to get it for me...
A knock on the door shifts my attention away from my reflection. I look over to see Avery standing in the doorway.
Avery bows his head respectively toward me but doesn't kneel as Rookwood did. Already these men, the spineless cowards who abandoned me, were feeling far too confident in themselves. They didn't think they had to beg my forgiveness anymore. Each thought they were at the top of the proverbial ladder, nearest and dearest to me.
I almost laugh aloud at the thought of it.
"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Avery asked.
"Yes." I walk toward him, already reaching for my wand. "Close the door, Avery."
He turns to shut the door, then turns back around to face me again. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees my wand pointed at him. I don't bother with any any explanation - I will save that for after.
"Crucio."