Hello lovelies!
Please leave a review and let me know what you think!
My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Thursday, September 27th, 1979
Undisclosed Location
The man kneeling before Tom Riddle is a barren shell of his former self.
Peter has large, balding patches as he'd taken to pulling manically at his hair whenever he got distressed. He is skin and bones; his bones are protruding through his skin. Peter's face is gaunt, skeletal and his lips are cracked and bloody from how dry they are. It's pathetic.
Peter's dingy, ripped prisoner garb is hanging off him. He is hunched over so Tom can see down his shirt. He sneers at the sight. The state of him is made more prominent in contrast with the sparkling white floors.
Tom is aware of how gutless and weak-willed the man was, but he thought he would have lasted longer than a few months before all his fight was snuffed out.
He must have completely given into the Dementors, Tom thought with mild interest.
Nonsensical, barely legible words are falling from his lips and his gaze is unfocused; he is looking through Voldemort.
"What do you see, boy?" Tom asks, bent at the middle to meet Peter's eye. No flicker of consciousness is present in his dark brown eyes.
The pair are alone in Voldemort's personal chambers. He hadn't wanted any of his followers present. There may be more traitors hiding amongst their coalition. On top of that, he cannot have anyone bear witness to the ceremony he is about to conduct.
Tom had attempted to wade through Peter's addled mind for the better part of an hour. The task had tested his patience as he kept coming up empty.
Peter's mind is crumbling. Tom managed to sift through the wreckage and find a handful of fractured memories, but they are of no use to him. They were from his Hogwarts days. Pranks, his first kiss, care of magical creatures class, running around on the full moon with his other unregistered animagi friends.
Perhaps it isn't a complete loss, Tom mused. He hadn't known Pettigrew's former friends were animagi. However, there isn't any information to be gleaned about the Malfoys, Notts, or the 'ginger boy' as the wizard had been dubbed amongst his followers.
Tom sighs, resigned to the fact that any further fishing through Pettigrew's head will be for naught.
"You've been a good servant, Wormtail. And don't worry, you can still be of use to me," Tom purrs. He straightens out and his lips curl into a predatory grin.
Lord Voldemort tucks a hand into his robes and finds the treasured prize he'd won from Abraxas Malfoy. He caresses it.
Abraxas always wore a sapphire pendant around his neck, its chain was white gold. The gemstone filled a great deal of Tom's palm and it depths swirl with silver when held up to the light. It belonged to Abraxas's late wife and he never took it off.
Tom's lips pursed thoughtfully as he gazed down at Peter, still fingering the pendant. This should do nicely, he thinks.
