He was standing at the top of the long flight of stairs that led down to their prison, and he seemed to be sniffing. Harry felt something flung over him and, not knowing what it was, he panicked, and kicked out at the nearest thing. Unfortunately that was Snape, and Harry felt a hand reach out and smack him none too gently on the back of his head.
"Silence!" hissed Snape. Twisting to look at him, Harry realised to his amazement that the professor had actually had the presence of mind to envelope himself and Harry – along with Ron – in the Invisibility Cloak. Harry's heart soared. There might be some hope left: Voldemort couldn't see them!
Voldemort began his descent, eyes flickering around the dungeon and taking in Hagrid, Hermione, Sirius and Lupin: any worry Harry had had that he could see through the Invisibility Cloak vanished as he missed the silent threesome completely and settled instead on the chains that held Remus Lupin, and Hermione, who had been about to try and release them.
"Expelliarmus," he said, casually, and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand towards him. Evidently the blocking curse did not apply to his own magic. He tucked it into his belt, along with Sirius and Lupin's. He smiled. "And where is Harry?" he asked, almost paternally.
No one answered.
"I see there are a few of our company missing," Voldemort observed, stepping forwards. "Potter… his red-haired friend… my faithful Mr Snape…" There was a bitter rise in his voice at the last word, and Harry surprised himself by feeling rather glad that Snape wasn't exposed to Voldemort's anger. Automatically, he put a hand to his forehead – no fever, though… He shook himself. Maybe he had just subconsciously began to re-evaluate his and Snape's relationship. Maybe, he thought suddenly and hopefully, he was dreaming.
"So," continued Voldemort, stopping opposite Lupin and Hermione, "What I would like to know is – where are they?" He splayed his hands in front of him, still smiling pleasantly. "You see, I can't very well kill him if I don't know where he is."
Sirius, Hermione and Lupin remained silent: Hagrid had not stirred from his stupor, and Voldemort took yet another step towards Hermione and Lupin, still hanging from his chains. Sirius made as if to move towards him, and with a sudden snaking movement Voldemort had him covered with his wand – he muttered something quietly, and Sirius could no longer move his feet. The momentum he'd had carried him forwards just enough to drag him to the ground; Voldemort laughed as he overbalanced and toppled painfully to his knees.
"Would either of you like to tell me where Harry is?" Voldemort asked Hermione and Lupin mildly. "Do go on," he prompted, as neither of them answered. "Mr Lupin?"
"I don't know," said Lupin.
"Come now. Surely you don't expect me to believe that? Would Harry Potter, the great Harry Potter run and abandon his friends? Would he leave, without telling them where he had gone?"
Lupin shrugged, as best he could whilst encumbered by the heavy chains. "I don't know," he repeated. Voldemort sighed in mock sorrow.
"But it's such a simple question. I'm sure a man – sorry, werewolf – of your credited intelligence can have no problems in understanding it. I've asked you twice: Now, I suggest you answer me, before I lose my temper. Where is Harry Potter hiding?"
"I don't know," said Lupin, again. In an instant, all pretence at joviality had vanished from Voldemort's countenance as he struck Lupin hard across the face and directed his wand at him. Sirius strained against the invisible chains about his feet. Hermione looked fit to faint.
Lupin raised his head back up from where it had cracked back onto the stone wall.
"Where – is – Potter?" snarled Voldemort again, leaning even closer to him. The prisoner stared back at him without blinking, almost making Ron almost laugh when he moved his head away slightly as though the smell of Voldemort's breath was distasteful to him.
"I've told you," he said calmly, for the fourth time since Harry had been watching, "I have no idea. I'm afraid you can't make me tell you what I don't know."
Harry winced as Voldemort flung his wand at him in irritation and red sparks flew at Lupin's body like fire – then started in horror as the wizard moved on to Hermione. She looked terrified.
"…Though I'm sure," continued Lupin as he saw this, " That my saying so won't stop you from enjoying every minute of trying."
He had managed to successfully divert Voldemort's attention back onto himself, and Harry saw Hermione almost crumple in relief. Voldemort hit Lupin again and Harry had to admit that Lupin appeared to be right: he did look like he was enjoying himself. Sirius took the opportunity of the distraction Lupin had provided to yank Hermione away – she had seemed frozen to the spot, dazed with terror, and Harry couldn't blame her; he watched in a silence that was proving harder to keep by the second as she buried her head into a surprised-looking Sirius's shoulder and sobbed loudly.
"Silence!" roared Voldemort, spinning round. "You – " he pointed his wand at Hermione, "Come here. Now."
As though moving against her will, Hermione pulled herself away from Sirius and stepped forwards stiffly. Harry had to stifle a warning cry with his fist: Ron was fidgeting next to him, and Snape clamped a hand over both their mouths. Harry fought the urge to bite him; his skin tasted horrible.
"So, little girl… since the werewolf won't talk, perhaps you would oblige me?" He reached out and touched her cheek with a horrible gentleness. Hermione shuddered, but seemed unable to do anything to stop him. Harry gagged.
"Leave her alone," said Sirius quietly, still trying desperately to move his feet and falling over as he did so. "Get your hands off her."
Voldemort looked at him, amused. "How touching," he replied. "But I hardly think so…" Suddenly, his hand pinched Hermione's chin so hard she squealed, and he forced her head up to look at him. Harry and obviously Ron – who was clenching and unclenching his fists so hard Harry was sure they must be bleeding by now – couldn't take any more of it. Before he got a chance to move, however, Remus Lupin and Sirius both acted at the same time: Sirius, who was just within reaching distance of Hermione from where he lay prone on the floor grabbed her back by her robes, and she fell, heavily, to the floor. At the same time Lupin lashed out with his foot and caught Voldemort in the small of his back, causing the wizard to cry out in pain and wheel round furiously.
Harry could no longer stand by and watch his friends be attacked like this by Voldemort. If it was him he was after, then he'd get him… Flinging the Invisibility Cloak from him whilst at the same time being careful not to let it slip from Ron and Snape, he charged at Voldemort and skidded to a halt just in front of Lupin. Hermione let out a little shriek.
"So…" hissed Voldemort, disturbingly unperturbed by Harry's dramatic entrance. "The prodigal hero returns. How nice of you to grace us with your company. Now: if you would like to go and stand over there, quietly, by your godfather… You will remain silent, Harry. You will not utter a single word until you are spoken to, or you shall be guilty of causing a great deal of pain to one of your friends. Believe me – I have no scruples in killing them in order to retain your obedience."
Harry stared at him, incomprehension spread across his face. Why wasn't Voldemort trying to kill him? Why hadn't he even disarmed him? He could easily –
"And I would not try to use any magic on me, Harry," added Voldemort as though he could read his mind. "Because I can break any one of your friends' scrawny little necks with a single click of my fingers. Yes – even the two who are too shy to visit me…" He suddenly reached out and whisked the Invisibility Cloak away from Ron and Snape – and Ron's face melted into disbelief as Snape shoved him roughly behind his own black robes.
"Playing the hero does not become you, Severus," said Voldemort. "You know as well as I do that I could kill Mr Weasley just as easily with you in front of him as without. But, I suppose the gesture counts in some ways… That was always your problem, you see, Severus. You never truly knew where you belonged. Too nice to be liked by the bad, and too bad to be liked by the nice… Well: you certainly seem to have found your role in life now. Protecting little boys. How sweet. Perhaps you need a little reminder of where your real loyalties lie?"
There was a split second of dead silence while Voldemort pointed his wand at Snape, and then a heart-wrenching howl as the Potions master fell to his knees, clutching at his left wrist as though it was alight. Harry suddenly remembered the mark of the death-eaters, the black sign emblazoned onto Voldemort's followers' forearms to bind them to him – and that Snape had chosen to reject. Snape's eyes were blazing with a hatred that surpassed even that he reserved for Harry and the two surviving Marauders. He staggered back up to his feet, and stared Voldemort in the eye.
"You are nothing," he spat. "By yourself, alone – you are nothing."
"Ah," said Voldemort. "But I am not alone. My faithful servant will be joining me presently – and old friend of yours, Mr Black, Mr Lupin, I believe."
As he spoke, he wove an intricate pattern into the air with his wand, slashing the space above his head as though he were conducting an orchestra. As Harry gazed, fascinated, the air began to glow gold: it lengthened to four or five feet, and stretched down to the ground. Voldemort finished his muttered incantation with a flick of his wand, and a figure stepped out from the golden haze, surrounded by a light almost too bright to look upon.
It was Peter Pettigrew.
"Wormtail!" cried Sirius, trying to run forwards again and only escaping another fall to the ground as Harry and Ron grabbed an arm each and hauled him back up again. Pettigrew laughed at him.
"Hello, Padfoot," he replied. "How… nice to see you. Not so big and brave now, are we? Not so clever?"
"You little rodent…" Sirius was squeezing his hands together, obviously desiring Pettigrew's neck to be in between them. "Wait until I get my hands on you…"
Peter sniggered uncontrollably, as though Sirius had just made some wonderful joke. "It won't be your hands you'll have to worry about, Sirius," he said, apparently in stitches. "My hands are the only hands to concern any of you… or to be precise: this hand." He held up his right arm, and Harry saw again the silver limb that Voldemort had given him in reward for sacrificing his previous body-part. He wondered what Pettigrew could be talking about.
"Yes," Peter was saying. "I didn't realise at first… I didn't know… But my master, my glorious master – he gave me this for a purpose. For revenge. I, the tag-along, the little fat boy you never really liked – who you only let follow you around because you felt sorry for him – I can claim my revenge!"
"Mental," Ron was muttering. "Never did like Scabbers… always thought there was something wrong with him…"
But Harry knew this was not true, and knew Ron still ached with the betrayal. However, he had no time to offer his friend comfort, because Scabbers, or Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew was still explaining to Sirius what he was talking about, and Harry listened.
"It tasted sweet," he was saying. "Revenge tasted sweet when James and Lily died. The first of the Marauders, and his goody-goody little wife…" Sirius, Harry, and Ron dived forwards at this, and Peter ginned happily as they were all rebounded by a shake of Voldemort's wand.
"And then I thought I'd dealt with you – big, brave, handsome, funny Sirius – I thought you were tucked away safely in Azkaban – I thought it wouldn't be soon before you given a nice little kiss, and then there would be two Marauders out the way. But that didn't work out." He sounded sulky. "And I thought that soon it would only be me and Moony. Me and – and that thing." He waved his silver arm again.
"So now you understand just how brilliant my master is," he said, and now he was walking towards Remus Lupin, too far away to listen to what he was saying. "You understand his beautiful, subtle plans… how appropriate, how fitting it should be that I could taste revenge and at the same time serve his plans… How much I will enjoy this."
He had stopped, and was staring at the wall with a curious mixture of loathing and fear on his face. Harry's mind raced wildly as he struggled to understand what the relevance of Peter's speech was, or whether he had, as Ron said, simply gone mad.
But Peter was no longer paying them any attention: his eyes were riveted to the same, one spot on the dungeon wall. He was staring at Remus Lupin.