Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
Sincere thanks go out to everyone who has reviewed; it is greatly appreciated. Secondly, I'm really sorry about this chapter being shorter than the rest, but I figured it is slightly better than nothing, and thirdly, I got myself a wonderful Beta! My Beta's name is Hippostrowl, and he is helping me edit my earlier chapters; thus, this story is under re-construction.
In the last chapter, I think I accidentally wrote 'Astoria' instead of 'Daphne', which was a fatal fault on my part. Thankfully, I was alerted by a guest reader. To be clear, Daphne Greengrass is the second apprentice, and Astoria is her little sister.
"Good evening, Mr Potter," Voldemort greeted lightly, from his seat at the head of the long dining table. His right hand lowered a glass of expensive red wine on to the royal blue tablecloth. "Dinner is about to start."
Bellatrix, with her excessively curly hair tied in an intricate chignon, Snape with a glowering expression, Daphne Greengrass looking nonchalant, and an unfamiliar man with abnormally lengthy blonde hair, were all seated and staring at Harry.
"Come, find yourself a place," the Dark Lord said, gesturing at the chair seemingly reserved especially for him. That was how Harry found himself trapped in between Voldemort and the haughty-looking blonde man whose gaze appeared to have permanently been glued to Harry.
"Before dinner begins, I would like to introduce Mr Lucius Malfoy, our Minister for Magic, who arrived here an hour after us," said Voldemort. It most likely was for Harry's sake; as Daphne Greengrass acknowledged softly, with a polite nod of the head, "Mr Malfoy" – suggesting the man was well known amongst the company.
In Harry's stunned mind, however, this was all in the background. All he could focus on was the man's surname: Malfoy. This could not possibly be Draco Malfoy's father … Minister for Magic and Voldemort's acquaintance! Officially speaking, the most powerful man in the nation!
Perhaps this was where Malfoy Junior's bigheadedness came from. Swallowing nervously, Harry suppressed his initial shock, making a mental note to avoid another argument with Draco.
When dinner finally was launched and the dishes were finally presented, Harry picked up a silver fork, loaded his plate and dug in. It was only when this movement was followed by utter silence that he peeked hesitantly at the others.
"Mr Potter, we do not eat until the master of the manor does," Snape enlightened, with an air of impatience.
Blushing furiously and letting his fork drop with a clang, Harry's gaze transferred onto Voldemort.
"Seems like a lesson on manners is in order," Voldemort commented, in an immensely pleasant tone. "Nonetheless, we must all follow Mr Potter's example for the dinner will go cold soon if left unattended." As he said this, he carefully scooped a spoonful of peas on to his plate. The other four all calmly picked up their forks and, copying the Dark Lord, helped themselves to whatever dish they wished – and thus, dinner truly began.
Harry was hesitantly wondering whether he should continue eating when Lucius Malfoy turned towards him with a sparkle in his eye. "Mr Potter, my son has mentioned you many times; I daresay your great name is well acquainted amongst our humble family."
The said speech was mocking, and Harry knew it. Forcing a strained smile, he nodded politely, and made sure his reply was equally formal and ridiculing, "Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I'm honoured the Minister for Magic should know my name, in addition to the privilege of dining with you tonight." From Harry's right side, Voldemort was listening to their exchange with amusement.
"No, it is I who should be honoured," Lucius said. "Congratulations on becoming our Lord's apprentice, and the same praises to Miss Greengrass."
"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," said Daphne, looking up from her plate. "Please send my regards to Mrs Malfoy and Draco."
As the polite talk drew to an end, Voldemort picked up his wine glass and raised it elegantly. "A toast to my newly claimed apprentices."
Bellatrix, Snape and Lucius Malfoy all did the same, in unison, while Harry glanced at his own polished but utterly empty glass.
"Like firewhiskey, wine is not appropriate for children, therefore I shall not encourage drinking," Voldemort explained carelessly. "However, Daphne has consumed wine before, on occasion. Haven't you?"
Daphne Greengrass nodded, firmly. "I have often participated in wine drinking – always during necessary toasts and always under the supervision of my parents, of course."
"You are four years Harry's elder, are you not?" Voldemort said. "Very well, you may drink with us… Harry, though, may not." At the Dark Lord's order, a house elf materialised and stepped forward to fill Daphne's glass.
Harry sat in his seat, glaring at nothing in particular, although he had the urge to look daggers at the Dark Lord and drive his point home. He was feeling immensely self-conscious, after being described as a mere child and forbidden from drinking with his 'elders' – he had a lingering suspicion that Voldemort was humiliating him on purpose.
"May your apprentices live up to your expectations, my Lord," Lucius said.
"And may they always triumph in the face of adversity," Bellatrix added.
"They'll have to." Voldemort smiled, downing his glass. "What say you, Harry?"
Harry froze, his fork on its way to his mouth. "I… I have nothing to say."
"Well then, please sit properly and focus on what I have to say." Voldemort paused, allowing Harry's blush of embarrassment time to fully blossom. "I have invited Lucius to be another tutor for Harry and Daphne, and the lessons shall begin the day after tomorrow; giving all of us exactly one day to settle. I believe that in taking up their education between the four of us, we can accomplish miracles. But for now, let us cease talking and concentrate on dinner."
...
As dinner continued, Harry grew to be just short of astonished; the appetizer was followed by a fish course, a soup course, the main course, a meat course, a salad course, a cheese selection, and finally dessert. Instead of a simple supper, they had worked their way through a formal, eight-course banquet.
At the end of it, Harry and Daphne were ushered out of the dining room by Bellatrix, and accompanied by Lucius, leaving the Dark Lord alone with Snape and Bellatrix.
"Come," Voldemort said, getting up from his seat, "I need to need to talk with talk with both of you."
Obligingly, the two Death Eaters followed the Dark Lord out onto the balcony and into the bitter cold. Under the blanket of darkness, Voldemort seemed completely at ease. "Severus, Bella, you do still remember when I told you, at the beginning of this year, to kill the parents of my protégés in order for me to gain full guardianship?"
Snape gave a curt nod, as formal as ever, even while his robes fluttered wildly around him. "Yes, my Lord. Do you still intend on us carrying the plan through?"
Eyeing Bellatrix, who was watching from the side lines, Voldemort casually twirled his trusted yew wand in his hands. "Do you think you should?"
Snape hesitated. "I do not know, my Lord."
"An honest answer, Severus," Voldemort said. "But my request was regarding a normal child; and the circumstances of neither Harry nor Daphne are normal. You are well-acquainted with Daphne's mother, Mrs Evelyn Greengrass? "
"Naturally, my Lord," Snape answered, sounding mildly surprised.
"Of course you would be; she belongs in the Inner Circle and is amongst my most loyal followers. Tell me, Severus, is there any sense in killing her when she would delightedly hand over Daphne's guardianship to me? Daphne's father, though not a Death Eater, is my supporter and will not resist against any of Evelyn's wishes."
"What about Potter, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, finally joining the conversation.
"His parents are dead, and his Muggle aunt and uncle, after all the new magical-parenting regulations, can be deemed unfit custodians. Moreover, they do not even want the guardianship of Potter."
"So the Dursleys will not be harmed, my Lord?" Snape inquired.
"I wouldn't say that." Voldemort smiled chillingly. "They must die. However, not before they sign the paperwork that transfers the guardianship of Harry over to me."
"Why would that be necessary, my Lord?" asked Bellatrix.
"Killing the Muggles or signing the paperwork? The Muggles must die so that Harry understands and resigns himself to the fact that he is completely under my control. If the paperwork is not signed, his guardianship will be assigned to Hogwarts, as all orphaned students are before they reach the age of seventeen."
Bellatrix beamed. "My Lord, I'd like to volunteer for this task. I'd like to kill the Muggles."
Voldemort shook his head dismissively. "This requires not only the killing to be made to look like an accident, but also tact and charm. I shall execute this task myself. Meanwhile, you can ask Evelyn Greengrass to sign this…" He pulled out a scroll and offered it to Bellatrix.
Snape cleared his throat. "My Lord, wouldn't your gaining the guardianship of your two apprentices and the unexpected deaths of the Dursleys, accompanied with the needed paperwork for Potter's guardianship transfer, look too much of a coincidence?"
"That is the exact point; Harry must realise the full extent of my power. If the Dursleys die without prior warning, what stops his friends from being next? He will give me his cooperation."
"My Lord, what about the publi –?"
"The public? They will not know about it, Lucius shall cover for me. However, even if the news get out, I doubt it will do anything more than inconvenience me."
"That is undeniably ingenious, my Lord," Bellatrix gushed. "Marvellously fool proof."
Voldemort waved her compliments away. "It's best if you both retire now. I have a nightly visit to pay the Dursleys."
A look of mild surprise etched over Snape's face before he leaned forward in a low bow and retreated, mirrored by Bellatrix.
—0O0—
A young man, dressed elegantly in an impressive black suit and looking the picture of wealth and superiority, walked down a suburban street of Little Whinging in the dead of the night. As he passed beneath the lamps, the light temporarily threw his striking features into relief.
Lord Voldemort stopped outside the little door to the modest house of Number Four, Privet Drive, and knocked lightly. For a while, the sounds went unanswered, and when he finally was received, it was by a skinny, horsey-faced woman who had bundled herself tightly in sleep robes.
"I do not believe you have informed us of your coming?" The woman looked enormously irked, her unsightly brows wrinkling into a frown. "My husband and son are both sleeping. How may I help you?"
Ignoring the blatant insolence and evident impatience, Voldemort smiled graciously; a mixture of flattering politeness and embarrassment. "I feel terribly guilty, disturbing you under such unsuitable circumstances. I tried to time this visit…" – at this he glanced at his pocket watch in emphasis – "but so many things demand my attentions, as they do you and your husband, I'm sure… Director of Grunnings, most notable drill-making company in Surrey, I'm very impressed."
By now, Petunia Dursley had lost her vexed look and was blushing in ill-disguised pleasure. "Oh, it's not the most notable company… but Vernon has put so much hard work into this corporation of his, you have to admit."
"Madam, Mrs Dursley, as I was saying, I'm deeply sorry about having to bother you, but if you could just spare me a few minutes of your time…"
"Oh, no! It's fine, come in." Petunia opened the door widely. "Come in and make yourself at home."
"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," Voldemort said smoothly. "I'll be eternally grateful."
In a fit of uncommon generosity, Petunia protested, "Oh, call me Petunia. 'Mrs Dursley' sounds so old."
"Your house is beautiful, Petunia," he said dutifully, stepping into the household.
Petunia Dursley's eyes widened as she took in his youthful appearance. "Why don't you come and sit down in the living room? Are you here to talk to Vernon about company business? I'll go wake him for you."
"Yes, please, thank you very much. Although, I bring business of a sort, it does not concern Grunnings; I'd like to speak with both of you."
...
It did not take long for the elephant of a man to emerge. With a few mannerly nods and a couple of undeserved, gratifying words planted in the right spots, Vernon Dursley was properly buttered up.
When the two Dursleys were seated together on the sofa, Voldemort leaned forward and began his proposal. "I suppose you're acquainted with magical individuals? Witches and wizards? Your nephew was one –"
It seemed something, whether it was his actions or words, had set the Dursleys off. "Now, look here, don't tell me you're one of them?!" Vernon Dursley blathered uncouthly, jabbing a fat finger at the Dark Lord.
Eyes glistening dangerously, Voldemort quenched his desire to punish the offensive interruption. Keeping an even voice, he said, "I think –"
"Don't be silly, Vernon!" Petunia reprimanded. "He cannot possibly be one of those freaks!"
Voldemort smiled, humourlessly. "It's perfectly fine, Mrs Dursley. I am a wizard."
Vernon Dursley leapt up in anger. "Go away, and keep away! You're not welcome here! Petunia, why did you even open the effing door to let him in?"
"Sit down, Mr Dursley," Voldemort said coldly. "I have a proposal you may want to consider."
"You will get out, or I will phone the police. The last time one of you came, he threatened to slice my fingers off and use them as potion ingredients. I bloody well won't tolerate such insolence again!"
"Sit down, Mr Dursley, before one of us does something we may regret. I find threatening Muggles with wands extremely distasteful. You'll listen to my proposition."
Idiotically, Vernon Dursley continued yelling at the top of his lungs, thrashing his big build about the room and glaring at the Dark Lord out of his piggy eyes.
"Petrificus Totalis," Voldemort said lazily, flicking his wrist in Dursley's direction. Petunia gave a small shriek as her husband landed next to her feet with a loud thump.
"Wha – what are you planning on doing to us?"
"Allow me to explain my charitable proposal," said Voldemort softly. "I have a piece of parchment which you put your signature. It removes the guardianship of your nephew, Harry Potter, from your family to my responsibility. In turn, you will be freed from a burden and will be given ten thousand pounds in cash."
"You're not serious!" Petunia gasped. "Where is it?"
"The parchment or the money?" Voldemort asked emotionlessly. "The parchment is here. I suggest you sign it, seeing as Mr Dursley is currently unavailable." He watched in grim triumph as Petunia hurriedly handed the signed parchment back to him.
"If you can just undo the spell…"
"Naturally," Voldemort said, observing Vernon get up with a grunt.
"Where's the money?" Vernon demanded. "You need to uphold your part of the deal."
"Do not fret, Muggle," he sneered. "The money is here."
Vernon grappled at it with craving hunger in his eyes and a small, satisfied smile curling one the edge of his lips. "You can get out now."
Ignoring him, Voldemort stated, "Call it blood money if you wish, since that is the Muggle term for it."
Petunia looked up at him with barefaced shock. "Blood money as in money paid in compensation to the family of one who has been killed? You are planning on killing Potter?"
Voldemort deliberately drew his answer out. "I daresay it won't be your nephew who dies tonight." The icy threat in his tone was so clear that Petunia Dursley instinctively took a step back. "I will take my leave soon, but it was incredibly rude of me; I never introduced myself. My name is Lord Voldemort."
The Dark Lord scorned the pathetic expression of blankness on the face of the Muggle female. "Do you not know the name of your sister's killer?"
He was treated to a look of confusion, followed by fear, before that was replaced by sheer terror. The two Dursleys, victims to utter vulnerability, could only retreat into the corner as Lord Voldemort, the greatest dark wizard of all time, advanced.
The thick silence of the bleak night was sliced mercilessly in half by the screams and shrieks of fear and panic.
Before long, Lord Voldemort stepped outside with a sinister smile. Leisurely, he walked towards the shadow of a looming tree. Behind him was Harry's childhood home, glistening and iridescent against the coat of midnight. The cries became barely audible as the flames ripped through the roof and devoured the entire house, burning its residents alive.
In the split of a second, Voldemort was gone, vanished into thin air. He left behind only rubble.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.