Although Ron's seat placed him near the Head Table he was still hidden from sight by the raised seating, meaning that not only were he and the few surrounding him safe from being easily seen but that he was also placed within eavesdropping distance. A conversation began between Smith and the leader of the enemy troop. Ron recognised the hissing voice and finally let go of any hope at all that he was going to get out of this alive.
"Every student is here?" Voldemort asked his tone soft and slippery as it echoed around the hushed hall.
"Every one," Malevolous smiled back, her eyes dancing with glee.
"My mediums are exorcising the remaining difficult ghosts as we speak and I trust that the house elves are… accommodating to their new master."
"Yes sir. All plans are complete and successful."
"Good." The Dark Lord turned from his private conversation and turned to face the rest of his audience.
"Good evening children." he began his pre-planned speech, "This is the beginning. Today is a day that will go down in history as the dawning of a new time. A time where being a pureblood means something. A time when we no longer fear muggles and hide like rats in the dark…"
Voldemort's resonating, tasty words continued but Ron was distracted by Hermione's hand on his arm and her lips near his ear. "You remember what to do don't you?" she whispered.
"What?"
"The passageway Ron," she hissed desperately, "get ready to run for it."
"There's no chance," he hushed back, directing the anger he was feeling at her, "we're being watched from over there," he pointed towards their classmates directly across the table, "oh, and yes, there's the small problem of Voldemort being here!"
"You can still get out of here."
"What do you mean?"
"Just wait."
"For what?"
"Trust me Ron"
"Hermione," he whined.
"Shush!" She ignored him and stubbornly gave her attention to the rest of the room.
Ron sighed in indignation but was quickly brought back to the gravity of the situation when he saw the red eyes of the callous monstrosity standing in front of the Hall cast their look down the Griffindor table. Ron sucked in his breath and gasped in relief when they passed him over. No, those eyes weren't searching for him.
Voldemort threw his sight to the doorway of the Hall and waited expectantly, it seemed that he had reached the pinnacle point of his speech for there Harry stood, alone, and experiencing the full brunt of the Dark Lord's gaze.
In the corner of his eye Ron could see Umbridge being led away by one of the Death Eaters that had arrived with Voldemort. He wondered briefly at the confused look on her face but that was quickly swept away when he realised, with horrified recognition, a certain familiarity with the cloaked figure. There was no mask to hide the calm and disarming face of Percy Weasley.
The sudden need to heave was distracted by Voldemort's chilling words, "Come Harry. We have a certain prophecy to discuss."
All eyes followed Voldemort as two of the cloaked figures grasped Harry's arms and the four of them left the Hall. So no one saw Ron collapse onto the table and the bushy-haired girl that slumped against him in defeat.
"So this is it," she whispered into the nothingness, "this is the end."
Those words, though unheard by Harry, were filling his head with endless echoes of themselves. At first he'd been to shocked to struggle against the strong arms that were pulling him away from the security of the crowd. By the time his senses had returned it was too late and any resistance he gave was pitiful. How could a sixteen-year-old boy possibly have any chance against older, fully developed men without the use of a wand? Voldemort held the thin piece of wood in his hand as he led the way up a familiar corridor. They stopped and Harry's eyes widened in surprise at their destination- though afterwards he wondered why he hadn't been expecting it.
The gargoyle he had come to think of a symbolising safety and friendship now glared at him coldly- Hogwarts was beginning to yield to its new illegitimate owner. Voldemort spoke the recent password in his shiver inducing vice, "New blood." The door opened after a slight pause and, with a smug smile on his face, the Dark Lord rose into his most recently acquisitioned territory.
"I see that Dumbledore's power is almost gone." Harry heard Voldemort inform the room as if convincing himself.
He finally found his voice, "What have you done to him?"
Voldemort simply ignored the question and continued to finger Harry's wand. Harry forced his eyes away from the epitome of evil in front of him and gazed around the room. Though he failed to register any details in his shocked stupor he did notice the empty perch where Fawks usually sat, that many of the portraits were missing and that the counter had been tossed to the side as if it were insignificant.
The Dark Lord took centre stage in front of the now cleared desk and aimed his deep red eyes at Harry who found himself held even tighter by the two Death Eaters.
"I'm going to tell you a little story, Harry. A story about an undervalued, little rat." His voice took on a playful tone, one that reminded Harry of a cat that had cornered a mouse and decided to tease it, "Once upon a time there was an escaped prisoner, a notorious madman set on bringing the darkest evil on earth back to life."
"Sirius didn't do that. We know that now." Harry defended the Godfather he never knew. If he could keep Voldemort talking then maybe there was a chance of escape. Unfortunately the strong, unrelenting arms on either side of him were causing significant difficulties with that idea.
The monster in front of him looked momentarily surprised but quickly hid the reaction, "Do you really? No matter. I don't really care about what you know. I'm just here to put you through your own personal hell so that you can a taste experience what you put me through for the last fifteen years!"
His face became clouded and his eyes flashed. He then calmed slightly and raised his hand toward one of the men by his enemy's side. Speaking in a silky voice, "Take a look at the person on your left Harry. Do you recognise him?"
Harry really devoured the person's presence for the first time that evening and gasped in realisation. Voldemort smiled at his struggling, "You should. He sat on your best friend's shoulder for five uninterrupted years before killing him. And do you know what the best part is dear, dear Harry?"
Harry refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer but his body refused to listen as it shook of its own will. "He has been the most delightful spy for me since the Weasley boy's death and not one person noticed. Not even your precious Dumbledore."
Ha paused briefly, "I think that I shall carry on with my story now;" he returned to the sing song tone, "you see that criminal madman was the perfect cover for my return. Who would notice a rat whispering in a businessman's ear and a brief disappearance when the infamous Sirius Black was being executed? Wormtail here got very worried on that night didn't you Wormtail." The man on Harry's left shook slightly but gave no other sign of hearing the question that was really a statement, "He heard mention of a certain map and was convinced that he'd been found out so he laid low for a few days until, oddly enough, nobody mentioned his name. I wasn't so surprised of course, it's always quite fun to see those who have been the subjects of prejudice turn against themselves; for Remus Lupin became his own worst enemy. Assuming that he wouldn't be believed he doubted his own intelligence and decided to leave out the tiny detail of a dead man's name out of his statement to the amazing Dumbledore. That was his big mistake, or my great relief depending on your perspective."
While he continued Harry tried to gain some freedom in his arms, which were becoming numb due to the force placed on them, but it was to no avail, "Wormtail then decided to get rid of the map for good but he still had the lingering doubt that his cover had been blown so he decided to call in on his old contacts. " He smiled thinly, "Carefully of course, this is the man whose animagus is a simpering, gang animal, but he had a reason for his fellow Death Eaters not to kill him. He had his easy access to The-Boy-Who-Just-Wont-Die. Imagine Lucius Malfoy's surprise when this wretch of a man transfigured in front of him one night claiming not only to have the ability serve up Harry Potter for lunch but also to know the whereabouts of the greatest sorcerer this world has ever seen- his forgotten leader." Voldemort basked for the moment in his own glory whilst Harry boiled with rage. "This said businessman then disappeared for a few months and returned later with a fully revived god and a new left hand, which I believe he keeps covered by a glove in unwanted company- though that is sure to change now."
"I had one of the greatest political minds of this century beneath me, completely devoted to catering to my every whim of world domination. I granted him great tolerance by listening to his ideas- imagine my surprise when they were actually reasonably intelligent. Now with my skills and his… useful contacts I have full control over every member in our government and many followers positioned, merely awaiting my order to manoeuvre themselves into the appropriate muggle offices."
"I have learnt my lesson Potter. Before, in your first year, I tried to creep in to this castle," Voldemort turned his head and threw his spindly arms out in an emphatic gesture of ownership, "but I did it alone and not fully up to strength. So now, as you can see, I have full control over everywhere. Everywhere. In the home, over the press, all of government and even the great and impenetrable Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry! Here I am, standing in the Headmaster's office with you, the magnificently lucky Boy-Who-Lived, quivering at my feet!"
Voldemort drew back his emotions, if that is the right word to describe what such a monster experiences, and returned to his narrative, "But I'm getting ahead of myself for I have not yet finished the story. There is still the question of how the incompetent Wormtail is holding steadfastly to your arm when he failed so miserably in killing you. He even ran away from the crime as soon as he was startled! Oh Harry that would have been the end of him; I will only take so many mistakes even when the person making them was the catalyst of my return. But this is the man who will always retain an ounce of my gratitude because he gave me the information I needed to kill you." He paused in his speaking to walk up close to Harry and whisper into is ear. Harry shivered at his touch. "Did you never wonder why I stopped probing your mind during your fourth year? Have you still not made the connection between that and the very vocal argument you had in your dormitories with your friends after Dumbledore had explained a little something to you about what he heard one night from a certain seer? Did you not notice the disappearance of a rat for a few days? Oh, Harry you have never been able to see what is right under your nose."
Neither have you thought Harry in a flash of defiance you didn't see Ron downstairs in the hall. You don't know about him or the doorway. He wasn't sure how he knew this but somehow it was clear to him that Voldemort was too adamant about Ron's death to know about his sudden return.
The Dark Lord brought Harry's attention back to himself, "He told me about the prophecy Harry. I know all about it. And then just a few days ago you had another conversation with a new boy, naively spilling all of your little secrets. You were right, we do face the same problem of how to kill each other; the difference now is that I have enough intelligence to work out how to do it."
With that ominous proclamation Voldemort took Harry's wand firmly in both gnarled hands and swiftly broke it into two pieces. The scraps of worthless wood were cast to the ground, their colour dull with the loss of magic and phoenix feather sticking, shamefully, out of the core.
Harry felt his feet crumple beneath him at the sight of his crushed beloved wand.
"What about Dumbledore?" Harry cried in desperate search for a distraction, anything to dam the tide of helplessness, "What have you done to him?"
Lord Voldemort smirked, "Do really believe that that will work? You think that I'm just going to stand here talking to you forever?" he paused for a moment in thought and then spoke again but there was an edge of finality to the words that were encased in arrogance, "Dumbledore also did not notice what was right under his nose, which is a shame really considering it may have helped him to notice that the food placed in front of him every mealtime was laced with slow acting poison."
This time the break was caused by Voldemort reaching into his robes, "However, you no longer have to worry about my little games, for a prophecy is about to come to pass. It is fitting is it not that my reign should begin with the most muggle of weapons. A simple blade, the first tool created by man." He pulled out a thin knife with a harshly serrated edge and dull black handle. Gazing at it he was hypnotised by the amount power he held in his hands from such a simple thing. Fifteen years was a long time to wait for this moment.
Harry found his own eyes drawn to the silver glint of the metal as the candlelight reflected off it. There was no hint of magic anywhere about the object and Harry felt his chest swell in indignation.
"You hypocritical bas-"
His voice chocked as the cool metal blade of the knife slit his windpipe. Instinctively his hands tried to reach towards the shooting pain cutting his neck but they were still restrained. Harry could feel the blood slowly dripping, running down his neck and pooling at his collarbone before seeping into his robes.
Gasping for air his knees buckled, his captors became his crutches. The lights slowly dimmed and sounds became blurry. His eyelids fluttered and, against his will, began to close for the very last time. The final sight ingrained on his retina was of two mocking red eyes. The last sound he heard in the darkness was a hiss that trickled into his right ear and sent a shot of terror to the centre of his being.
"Do give your parents my regards Potter," whispered the gleeful voice of Tom Riddle.
AN: I bet you really hate me now. Two chapter left, well one really and an epilogue but the next one will be a bit longer. I'm not sure if the title of this chapter should be disclaimed or not because technically it came from a line in Terry Pratchetts 'Night Watch', but can you copyright a sentance?
Thank you! Thank you! to all of those people that reviewed for the first time last week and to those who remain faithful- imaginary chocolate chip cookies are now being transferred now your modem. And of course to my beta, nattieb.
suckr4romance81789- I think you misread moments for minutes, but eventually I will go back and change all of the little mistakes when its finished because you are right about the number being wrong.
grimm sister- I hope this explains my reasoning behind how Sirius's death could accomplish all this. It's not so much his death but Peter's actions that have caused the changes. Though I know I'm stretching things a bit by having Voldemort actually think things through rather than just attack Harry out right in this story. Btw I'm not having a go at JK here just adding my own view of the character. We will of course soon get to everyone else.
See ya next week.
