Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.
I'm so sorry about the late update! I recently started at a new school and the difference in the amount of homework overwhelmed me a bit. I never realised until now exactly how free I was!
Anyway, for those who are interested, there's probably one more chapter to go until the story officially closes. But there will be a sequel... and it'll either be called Fire Crux or Dawn Crux.
Spoiler: Dumbledore is not quite dead.
Lord Voldemort's expression immediately darkened in a way so ominous that Harry took a shaky step back. "Oh?" he asked threateningly. "Tell me, Harry, why did you not inform me of this earlier?"
Harry stumbled around for words he did not have. The sudden changes in atmosphere caught him completely by surprise. "What…what do you mean?"
"What I mean is," Voldemort pronounced dangerously, "is why did you choose to hide this from me?" The dark tone promised Harry a foreboding future, and he realised he might just be cursed for the first time by Voldemort's hand.
"I haven't hidden anything!" he cried.
"You liar," the Dark Lord hissed. "You will tell me everything I want to know and more. Harry, meet my familiar, Nagini." With a mere gesture from Voldemort, the giant black snake wound itself so harshly around Harry that he was temporarily silenced by the discomfort.
Harry automatically froze as the scales of the intimidating beast contacted his skin. The coldness alone made him shudder. But as the snake carried out the commands of its master, he stirred from his stupor and resisted violently.
Thrashing didn't help in the least. If anything, the snake squeezed even more forcefully than before, crushing him like a defenceless mouse in its tight hold.
A soft moan emitted from Harry's lips as his knees buckled and he collided with the cruelly approaching floor.
Upon hitting his head, he choked out a strangled cry and clawed at the great serpent, aware he was being slowly suffocated. His eyes watered agonisingly and his throat felt raw.
"If you are ready, Harry, we will begin." Voldemort's cool voice washed over him. "I will ask the questions and you will answer them. My snake will be the witness."
"No…" he rasped in protest, wincing at the grating sound of his own voice. "I haven't done anything."
"No?" the Dark Lord asked. "I am quite certain –"
"I'm not lying!" he insisted stridently, slightly breathless. He hated the vulnerable position he was in; utterly at Voldemort's mercy.
"You will not interrupt me, Harry. Next time you will regret it." Voldemort's voice was like steel – cold and hard. "Tell me, have you always had this… gift?"
"What gift?" He gasped for air, attempting to pacify himself while Lord Voldemort's expression grew ever more menacing. The sharp, indignant mystification in Harry's words rung out vibrantly.
"Harry, I do not possess a fondness for repeating myself," Voldemort murmured frostily. "If you wish to make this easier for yourself, you will tell the truth, and if not… I will have to drag it out of you; we have all night."
Harry closed his eyes in despair; this was a nightmare. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. I am telling the truth, I swear!"
"I know you are not a fool, you know you are not a fool. Surely, there is no point in feigning any further," the Dark Lord said brusquely. "Your continuing pretence is unbecoming." He reached out a hand and petted the black viper on the nose. "I will ask you again: how long have you retained this gift?"
"I told you! I don't know!" Harry shouted in sheer infuriation. At the injustice and ill-treatment, his defiance was returning to him, engulfing his puzzlement. It was almost as though Voldemort was deaf; he was so dreadfully livid that none of Harry's words seemed to reach his ears.
Voldemort drew his wand from his sleeve, twirling it meaningfully, before aiming it aloofly at Harry's heaving chest. "You have one more chance."
"What the hell is wrong with you? I'm sorry, but I haven't done anything!"
Voldemort's patience had finally drawn to an end, smashed to smithereens by Harry's final disrespect. He glanced impassively at the viper and hissed an order, "Nagini, tighten."
Alarmingly, Harry felt a rush of pain as the pressure on his middle increased in intensity. "No, don't, please!" The plea slipped out before he could stop himself.
Remarkably, the beseeching words had an effect on Lord Voldemort, who hesitated for the slightest of moments – then, he raised his hand and gestured for Nagini to halt. "Wait."
"Master, the insolent boy…he needss to be taught a lesson," Nagini hissed in displeasure, unwillingly loosening her coils around Harry. "Preferably a memorable one."
Harry, who lay there shocked by Voldemort's change of mind, flinched involuntarily when Nagini brushed a chiding tongue over his cheek. "Senselessss little human-snakeling, speaking out of turn. Control your temper around Master," she admonished softly.
"She is quite right," Voldemort said, quietly. He seemed to have gotten over worst of his temper in a matter of seconds. "It will end badly for you if you provoke me all the time."
"I don't mean to…" was all Harry could manage.
"That much is obvious," remarked the Dark Lord dryly. "It is your uncultivated temper."
"I didn't lie!" Harry quickly put in. "I really have no idea what's going on."
Voldemort's wand hand twitched in response, as if he was itching to grab his wand again and hex him. It gave Harry the terrible impression that he still did not believe him.
"Master…" Nagini interjected in a tender hiss. "Perhapss the boy is speaking the truth? Surely, he hasss no reason to conceal this from you. He may truly not know of Parseltongue." The female viper turned her head in his direction. "How long have you been able to talk with serpents?"
Harry frowned at the question. "I can't talk to snakes."
Nagini flicked her tail in emphasise as she responded, "You are talking to me right now – in my own language. How long have you been able to understand snakesss?"
Recoiling as if he had been physically struck, Harry gazed at Nagini with a horror-stricken expression in his eyes. "You are the first talking snake I've met."
He saw the black viper trade a meaningful glance with Voldemort. "Have you even seen a live snake before?" she questioned.
Harry nodded in indignation. "Of course! And none of them were able to talk!"
"It seemsss he knowss not, Master," Nagini hissed, slowly circling Harry while Voldemort stood quite still with a musing expression. "It would seem so," the Dark Lord murmured, in English.
A sudden burble of laughter rose unexpectedly up Harry's throat, a mixture of relief and lingering annoyance, and he had to bite his tongue to force it down; somehow, he didn't think Voldemort would appreciate it.
"Hmm…" Voldemort's eyes narrowed into slits as he contemplated. "It appears there has been a slight misunderstanding."
Sighing lightly, Harry inclined his head, knowing that this was the closest thing to an apology he would ever receive from his guardian. "I agree."
"I'm sure you do," came the velvety tease. "Perhaps had you not provoked me so waywardly, I would not have reacted so ruthlessly. I will find dig out every shard of information concerning this new discovery… but not tonight. Tonight, all our tempers wear thin and it is in your best interest to depart."
Still reeling from the events and now gaping at the dismissal, Harry secretly loathed being tossed around by Voldemort's unpredictable moods. But what he to do?
With his nails jabbing fiercely in his palms, he wordlessly retreated from the office and closed the door soundlessly behind him, quashing the impulse of slamming it as hard as he could. Harry hovered a few moments outside before heading for his own bedroom.
...
"Bad evening? Your expression can curdle fresh milk." Tom's voice followed Harry the instant he stormed into the room. "Thanks for the compliment," he answered wryly. "If you must know, it all went perfectly fine until the last hour."
"Let me guess…" Tom said dryly. "Dark Lord problems?"
Harry shut his eyes. "Is it really that obvious?"
"Diplomatic answer or honest answer? You wear your emotions on your sleeve. It is so piteous that few words in my vocabulary are capable of describing –"
"Great," Harry interrupted. "Next time, don't answer. I was technically asking a rhetorical question."
"Pity, I was hoping for banter," Tom Riddle remarked. "If my humble opinion is wanted…Your foul mood needs to be cured. Do you wish for real company?"
Plopping himself onto his bed, Harry gave a weary nod. "Yes, that'd be great. I'm –" Before he had even finished speaking, the figure in the portrait was gone, replaced by a very genuine Tom who strolled towards him.
"You can roam free now?" Harry asked, in surprise.
"Anytime I fancy," Tom Riddle confirmed, with a charming smile. "The frame can no longer limit me."
"Well, that's good news," he muttered. "I thought I'd have to bleed myself to death every time you come out. Thank heaven for small mercies."
"Harry, I owe you," Tom said seriously, stepping closer. "Your drops of blood have freed me for ever. I am no more a mere portrait; I am a mastermind in flesh, blood and bones."
The words touched Harry more than he imagined they would. "Ever the modest," he joked. "You're welcome. But why do you keep insisting on returning to the portrait?"
"Appearances need to be kept up," Tom Riddle replied simply. "One day I will take my leave, and on that day, the Dark Lord will realise I am a formidable foe."
"You think you can defy Voldemort?" Harry gaped openly. "Tom –!"
"I know I can flout his decrees, those laws of which I have no regard for," Riddle stated chillingly, his eyes flashing. "The mighty Lord Voldemort has bitten off more than he can chew."
"Tom…" Harry trailed off anxiously, unsure of what to say. And so, no more was said on the subject.
"Resisting the Dark Lord, as tempting as it sounds, is for the future. For now… I want to know your impression of me, Harry Potter."
Harry came to a standstill. "What I think of you? Umm…you're a genius, brilliant minded, manipulative – and don't you dare pretend you're not – charming, arrogant, ruthless, and you make a magnificent teacher."
"It is good to hear such a high opinion of me. I take it you like me very much?" Tom said sincerely.
Snorting, Harry shook his head in exasperation, knowing the older boy probably took 'manipulative', 'arrogant' and 'ruthless' as compliments. "I like you, Tom, seeing as I have no other companion. Happy now?"
"Very happy." Riddle smirked in his habitual triumphant way. "So, are you going to tell me what caused your horrible mood?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry explained briefly, "Voldemort held me responsible for not informing him that I can speak snake tongue."
"Parseltongue?" Tom said softly, a small smile dancing on his lips. "How surprising… you can speak Parseltongue now."
"What do you mean by 'can speak Parseltongue now'?" Harry asked sharply, his brain picking up the implication in the sentence. "How did you know I've never spoken it before?"
Tom arched his eyebrows. "I didn't know. It was a slip of the tongue." Harry stared at him disbelievingly, detecting a lie. "Yeah, right."
"Go to bed now, Harry. It is a big day tomorrow."
He gritted his teeth, irked at the nonchalant way Tom dismissed him – it held a certain resemblance to Voldemort's dismissal.
—0O0—
The first thing in the morning was Potions. Harry was currently sitting on a wooden chair beside Daphne Greengrass, waiting impatiently for the arrival of Severus Snape.
"So, Harry, you had your initiation yesterday? How did it go?" Daphne asked, soft as velvet.
"Very smoothly," he ground out. Daphne's sickly sweet voice set his teeth on edge – it was like a syrupy poison that seeped into his brain, interrupting his line of thought.
"I heard Barty Crouch challenged you to a duel. He's a member of the Inner Circle," Daphne said, inspecting Harry's face thoroughly. "Yet you won." She smiled pleasantly.
He nearly gagged out of disgust. "I did, with trickery and not power, unfortunately."
"All the more admirable."
Luckily, he was rescued by Snape's dramatic entrance. The professor swept into the room in a flurry of billowing robes, and at last, stood in front of them with a disapproving expression. "As you know, the Dark Lord has not been feeling his best in the last week or so. This is the reason you will be taking the day off after this lesson, when you should have been studying with him."
Harry had no idea that Voldemort had been ill, but he was delighted to discover it had earned him a free day.
"Today, we will be brewing the Animagus Revelare Draft; a potion that can, if concocted correctly, reveal the form of your Animagus," Snape explained, with a curl of the lip.
"Excuse me, Professor, but what is an Animagus?" Harry inquired. From the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne Greengrass suppressing a scoff, a movement which only aided to fuel his annoyance towards her.
"An Animagus is a wizard who can morph into an animal at will. Your Animagus form can only be one particular species and so remain that permanently. This potion merely shows you what animal will become your Animagus."
Harry felt a shiver of excitement pass across his shoulder blades; all of a sudden he could not wait to start. He wondered what shape he would take – whether it would be stag, lion, eagle or something entirely different.
"The list of ingredients is on the board, and you will find the required items in the cupboards. If you succeed, you may test it in your leisure time, and you will leave empty-handed if you fail. The effects of the potion will last one hour at maximum. Begin."
Glancing curtly at the board, Harry gathered the ingredients as speedily as he could and immediately went to work.
He approached each step in the instructions with the utmost caution, afraid he would ruin the potion while administering each component with precise fingers.
Roughly two hours later, Harry had carefully poured his potion into a glass flask. It was the proper colour stated in the instructions: a swirling blend of purple and gold. He smiled in anticipation.
"It appears both your potions have been correctly made. Of course, you will find out later whether you failed at this simple assignment when you drink it later," Snape said, after closely examining the liquids. "Dismissed."
Grinning, Harry harvested his potion, pocketed the reward and cast a Protection Charm on it, to prevent the flask from shattering. He would drink it later in the day.
—0O0—
Behind the iron gates, loomed an ancient stronghold, a grim fortress cold and forbidding. Tall walls shielded the isolated territory from sunlight. The words 'For the Greater Good' was carved in spidery letters across the barred entrance.
Dark clouds circled the prison, ever vigilant from the sky above. No birds sang, no animals roamed. Only the rustling of neighbouring trees could be heard whispering, sharply contrasting against the silent background. The dead trunk of a crooked oak symbolised the horror and bleakness behind the gates.
In the highest tower stood a grey and barren room, a great cell, with two stone beds, ragged, thin blankets, a petite hole for a window, and dangling chains. Collared to the fortress without even the faintest taste of freedom, were two of the most powerful wizards ever known to history. Rather than killed, the two sorcerers were allowed to live in a display of bitter irony.
As secure as Azkaban, Nurmengard was a prison built in Germany in the height of Grindelward's power. The two residing wizards – who had once been childhood friends – were no other than Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore, once the glorified Light Lord, was now a hunched figure in dirtied robes that held only a hint of the bright colours he wore long ago. His wand, dignity, power had all been stripped from him. The school and the society that he had battled to protect were at the mercy of Dark Lord Voldemort.
His loyal Order members were dead, and those who weren't suffered terribly at the hands of Voldemort. It had been three years; three years since he had failed those he loved, three years since the Dark Lord had claimed supreme power and final victory, three years since he had lost everything.
Once in a month, Lord Voldemort would pay him a visit. The purpose was to inform him of all the changes that happened in the wizarding world in that time. It was amusement to the Dark Lord to see the great Albus Dumbledore break down.
To the rest of the world, Dumbledore was dead. Voldemort had spread the news of his death as vastly as he could. Yes, to the rest of the world, Albus Dumbledore was dead. Perhaps he was dead even to himself. He wasn't the serene Headmaster of Hogwarts anymore. All the torture, all the pain of seeing Voldemort wield dominant power had done that to him. In the prevailing grief, he was now ready to do anything to bring Voldemort down. If only the opportunity was handed to him, he would seize it and do all in his power to fix everything.
'Everything' included re-igniting the friendship with Gellert Grindelwald, a renowned past dark wizard. Together, Dumbledore knew, they could eventually escape and shock the wizarding world. They had different ideals, but they would settle that once Voldemort was vanquished.
Out of the blue, footsteps approached. Death Eaters.
The door to the cell was thrown open and a slender figure was roughly thrust in by the Death Eaters.
"Treacherous woman," one of Voldemort's followers snarled. "The Dark Lord ought to have ordered this long ago." And then they left as soon as they came, seemingly eager to finish their mission.
Dumbledore saw Grindelwald getting up to welcome their new inmate, but he chose to remain in the little sliver of light emerging from the window.
He heard the woman gasp, followed by a familiar voice that brought tears to his eyes. "Albus!" she cried. "After all these years of believing you were dead, to think we would reunite here!"
"It is good to see you too, my old friend. Meet Gellert Grindelwald, Minerva."
—0O0—
"What?" Harry gasped in outrage as he paced his bedroom. "Tom! Are you certain you saw her in chains?"
"What do you not understand from the word 'chains'? They dragged her to see the Dark Lord," Tom Riddle affirmed, cutting Harry's hopes short. "She has been taken prisoner."
"For what reason?"
"Meeting with underground organisations that resist against the Dark Lord, and maintaining the cover of serving him while committing crimes behind his back."
"Professor McGonagall was not serving him!"
"Whether she was serving the Dark Lord or not, your professor was arrested for treason. If something does not change she will either spend the rest of her life in the prison or she will be executed."
"Executed?" Harry repeated, utterly horrified. "Voldemort will kill her?"
"That is one possible outcome," Riddle answered lightly.
"The merciless, revolting, obnoxious scum of a viper!" A string of vibrant curse words quickly followed. "I cannot believe how low he can go! I suppose he wasn't planning on telling me any of this?"
"I do not believe so," Tom Riddle answered.
Harry lashed out at his bed in overwhelming anger. "She's my professor. I can't just step aside and let her stay there."
"Who do you think you are?" Tom asked. "A knight in shining armour, the world's little hero or a boy with saviour tendencies?"
"None of those. I only want to get Professor McGonagall out of there."
"Already planning a rescue mission, are you? Or are you preparing to rush in without a plan?"
"I have no time to argue with you. Are you going to help me?" Harry asked. When his question was greeted by silence, his shoulders sagged. "I should have known you'd only do something when it benefits you. Since you won't help, I'll ask Voldemort to release her."
"He will not," Tom said plainly. "If he has his own reasons for wanting her caged, nothing you say will change his mind. It will serve as a warning to tighten the security on you."
"Then what do you propose?"
"That we stay here and do nothing."
Harry glared daggers at Tom Riddle. "That's out of the question."
"Pity you will not get anything done without me," Riddle sneered. "You do not even know where she is held captive."
"Tom," he pleaded. "Will you please help me? Just this once?"
"No," came the firm, unmoving answer.
"How can you be so ungrateful?" Harry said incredulously. "I gave you your freedom. Won't you return the favour?"
"What makes you think I have the capacity to free your professor?" Tom said. "More importantly, what makes you think I am willing to risk the detection of my newfound freedom?"
"I can promise you that if I get caught, nothing about your participation will get out," Harry swore.
"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "What if the Dark Lord tortures you with the intent of finding out how you freed McGonagall?"
"Tom, please…"
"Fine," he said, surprising Harry by abruptly agreeing. "We make a bargain. One favour for another. You owe me a favour."
Harry smothered an urge to inform Tom that he had already done him a favour by letting him out of the painting. "Alright," he said, instead. "Let's start making plans, then."
"No," Tom Riddle declined. "We leave right now and take Lord Voldemort by surprise. It will work to our greatest advantage. Your professor will be held in Nurmengard, a prison in Germany. The quickest route is to apparate directly into the fortress."
"There will be wards. Not only those set in the prison but also those set here."
"I have my ways," Tom said mysteriously. "Take my arm."
Before Harry could even react, he found himself clutching Tom's arm for dear life as they spun crazily in what seemed to be richly coloured fog.
The next moment, he was retching all over the floor. Strangely, everything was dark, and his eyes took a while to adjust. When he had emptied all his stomach's contents, he saw a figure next to him. It was Tom.
"We are here. Inside their cells," Riddle declared. "I recommend you hurry."
"I know, I know!" In Harry's haste, he never realised Tom Riddle had used 'their' instead of 'her'.
"Mr Potter!" McGonagall's shocked voice nearly startled him out of his skin. "What on earth are you doing here, Mr Potter? You must go back at once! Do you understand how reckless this is – what if the Dark Lord catches you?"
"What about you?" Harry replied. "What if you are executed?"
"Mr Potter," McGonagall said quickly. "I will be here temporarily for treason, however, it is nothing serious. You are exaggerating the possibilities –"
"I was worried," he interrupted. "You need to get out of here."
"Who is this visitor, Minerva?" Another voice came out of the darkness. "Will you introduce us?"
Harry leapt back in astonishment, having not expected another person.
"Albus, this is Mr Potter, a first year Slytherin student. Harry, here is the Albus Dumbledore I was telling you about, leader of the Order of the Phoenix," McGonagall said, in a clipped tone.
"You're Professor Dumbledore?" Eyes widening in amazement, Harry glanced at the old man who was walking towards him and offering his hand.
"I am. Although I am no longer a professor," the old wizard chuckled. "So, my boy, you're Harry?"
Somehow, he had not imagined the organiser behind the Light's movements to be a wizened old man. Dumbledore, according to McGonagall, had been killed by Voldemort. Harry caught a glimpse of the wizard's unkempt clothing; beneath all the soil and dirt, there seemed to be an interesting pattern of blue, violet and green.
Even without being told, Harry thought he could guess at what had happened. Voldemort, having informed the entire wizarding world of Albus Dumbledore's death, confined him in the cells of Nurmengard.
There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes that Harry spotted regardless of the darkness. It looked like an undying flare that had always been there; a flare of hope.
"It's an honour to meet you, Professor. It was an amazing thing you did," Harry said, shaking the presented hand. "You must have been here a long time."
"Old age has crippled me and imprisonment has taken its toll. It is I who should be honoured to meet you. The future generation is all we have –"
"Albus," McGonagall interjected in a harsh tone, "are you going to introduce your friend?"
"Oh," Dumbledore claimed in surprise. "Of course! How rude of me. Gellert, please, I want you to meet Harry Potter."
At those words, another man stepped out from the gloom. There were dark shadows under his brown eyes but a jolly smile played on his lips. "Hello, Harry."
"Hi, Mr Grindelwald," Harry greeted politely. He was slightly distracted by McGonagall's glacial expression as she observed them. It seemed almost as if she was dreadfully upset about something.
"Lovely manners, Harry. Something the Dark Lord demanded, no doubt," Grindelwald praised, grinning with a mouthful of yellowing teeth.
"Pardon?"
"I do recall Lord Voldemort telling us, merely a few months ago, that he selected two Hogwarts students as apprentices. I suppose you're one of them," Grindelwald said. "He left poor Albus quite speechless with anger."
Harry felt a gust of air on his right as Tom Riddle moved forward. "This is all very touching…although there may be a better time for this," he said, a subtle sneer in his tone. "Since Professor Dumbledore is alive, perhaps it would be best to get every one to safety."
"This young gentleman is quite right, of course," Dumbledore said, bestowing a smile upon Tom. "However, it is impossible to apparate, and yet the two of you –"
"I'm afraid the circumstances do not play on our side," Riddle said disdainfully. "If you wish to leave this prison, you will listen to me." The blatant disrespect on his part did not go unrecognised. "My boy," Dumbledore began, "what is your name?"
"My name is Tom."
Harry saw the ex-headmaster twist his head as if to see Tom better. The effort was in vain, due to the dim light, but he saw Dumbledore twitching slightly.
"What, my boy, would you say is the best way to break out?" Dumbledore directed the question at Tom.
"I know which wards to take down without alerting the other ones," Riddle said aloofly.
It was evident that Professor Dumbledore smelled something suspicious, but he did not say anything as Tom set to work. In a matter of minutes, all the wards were down and broken – it was as though Tom had sliced through all of them as effortlessly as slicing through butter.
"We have dawdled long enough," Tom stated, blasting the door of the cell open. McGonagall and Harry hurried forward, but Dumbledore lingered behind long enough to call out, "Gellert, join us."
McGonagall's face immediately tightened in displeasure, her eyebrows knitting together in a truly intimidating expression. "Albus, you can't possibly –"
"Minerva, please," Dumbledore sighed. "I know what I'm doing."
She pursed her lips and lowered her head, but the hardness in her eyes was still there. "Albus, this is not a good idea, I'm afraid."
"I've already made up my mind," Dumbledore said resolutely. "It's for the greater good." He welcomed the fifth member into their troupe, smiling as Grindelwald reached them.
Harry was a little puzzled by the exchange but he turned his attention to Tom, who made quick progress at the front, assisted by Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
The performance was quite spectacular, with Tom and the two other powerful wizards thrusting obstacles out of their way in a whirl storm of scorching spells and dazzling colours. The feel of magic was dense in the fortress.
In less than one hour, they broke through the gates and escaped the grounds. A thick sense of freedom and triumph could almost be tasted. Dumbledore let out a chuckle, rejoicing in the moment. "I have not seen this world for so long."
"You should be back, Mr Potter," McGonagall insisted. "We will be fine, Albus, I and… Grindelwald."
Harry felt a fluttering in his heart as Dumbledore gripped his hands tightly and expressed his gratitude. "Harry, my boy, I won't ever be able to repay you. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said.
—0O0—
Tom melted back into his portrait the very second they apparated back. Harry smiled in relief. Mission successful.
As if on cue, there was a deafening crack and the bedroom door was forced open. Voldemort stood in the doorway with Daphne Greengrass trailing not far behind.
The danger in the Dark Lord's posture screamed at Harry to flee. Red ink spilled into his irises. Anger was etched on his handsome features. His lips twisted into an eerie smile that resembled a snarl. "Back so soon from the trip to Germany, Harry?"
As Voldemort strode in, rage flooded into every crack of the room. A few steps and a brandished wand had Harry cornered and cringing. He staggered backwards as Voldemort physically dealt him a sharp blow to his right cheek.
"You have disappointed me, Harry. This time, your betrayal has cost me Dumbledore. In setting him free, you will pay in his place."