The Seers' Truth: Beyond the Darkness

By Lady Lestrange

Where's My Bunny?

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: All Potterverse belongs to JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied. Thanks JK.

Where's My Bunny?

Chapter 16

The first words after he called the circle were deceptively soft.

"Where's my bunny?" he asked.

He reached out with his gift, letting the fear in their hearts lead him to the culprits, whether for malice or not, someone had released the rabbit from Wormtail's care. He reached his hand into his pocket and felt the tiny scratchy feet of the rat. It reminded him of a more trustworthy rat that he had kept as a pet for a while in the Muggle orphanage. It had died in the end, a victim of a child's prank.

No—that was my rat, interrupted Tom.

We are the same, Voldemort replied.

"We are not!"

He surveyed the circle as he petted Wormtail. The fear rippled everywhere, every one of them afraid for a moment that they had unwittingly released the rabbit and then the fear settled and here and there some spots of fear grew in clumps. These were some of the guilty ones, he knew. Kieran, Shaul, Clive, he barked out the names of the Durmstang boys and they came forward, Still afraid, but somewhat emboldened because they were in a group. Every one of them decided immediately to blame the other. He smiled.

"The one who brings me my bunny, will not be Crucioed," he said.

Instantly, two of them dove for the door the third Apparated and in a second had popped back into the room with a rather smelly, unkempt rabbit.

The Boy who had Apparated was serenely confident that he was free, but Voldemort was now entirely enraged because the animal he held was not an Animagus and therefore not His rabbit.

"Crucio!" snapped Voldemort, watching intently as the fire of the Crucio took effect. First the boy Kieran, screamed in panic and pain, dropping the rabbit, who dashed for shadowy corner. The boy tried to bat away the flames he saw and felt and then he quivered into himself, screaming, the pain causing him to lose all touch with anything around him. At this point, Voldemort laid his hands on the boy, letting the fire seep into his very bones, feeling the boy's suffering until the boy lost consciousness and Voldemort dropped him on the floor.

"Where's my bunny?" he repeated, and with a crook of one of his long and deadly fingers, he called the second boy a step closer to him. He reached out, wickedly fast and dragged the boy forward by his robe collar.

"I—I—I don't know," he stuttered, pointing to the other boy. "He—"

"Crucio!" he said, this time taking the boy's breath, watching his sullen, sallow face turn blue and his eyes widen in fear as he opened and closed his mouth, as if he could taste the air by moving his lips. Voldemort's fingers clenched against the boy's neck allowed him to feel the terror of suffocation consuming him. The boy fainted entirely too soon. He slid to the floor, his eyes bulging with fear.

"Master!" cried the third boy, throwing himself at Voldemort's feet. "I'm sorry. It was just a prank; we were going to return her as soon as we had a little fun. We put her in the closet, right there. He could have found her, but Mr. Pettigrew is so—so—" He looked around for Wormtail before continuing. Pathetic, was the word in the boy's mind, but he searched around for an alternative and instead said, "trusting."

Voldemort smiled an altogether unpleasant smile. "So what do you think happened to my bunny?" His voice rose in intensity and in anger as he continued speaking, "While she was in a completely unwarded closet! When you and all of my Death Eaters know that there is a traitor among us! What-do-you-think-happened?!" Voldemort screamed; the magic crackling in his hands was a ghostly shade of green.

The boy shrunk silently within himself, and Voldemort clasped his hand under the boy's face, the hot magic boring into flesh of his neck. "Answer me when I talk to you, Shaul" growled Voldemort, "or I will fry your vocal cords right out of your throat." His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "After all, if you don't talk to me, you don't need to talk at all.

"I—didn't—kn-know—"

"Lies!"

"But I didn't d-do anything," Shaul blurted.

"Lies!" Voldemort said again, grasping the boy by his hair and tightening his fingers against his throat.

Shaul whimpered. "Okay, I knew. I just watched. I didn't hurt her."

"Lies," spat Voldemort dragging his hand across the boy's throat and the smell of burning flesh made some of the Death Eaters cringe and the boy's scream pierced the air.

"Tell me the truth, now," Voldemort said, calmly and he waited patiently while the boy coughed and cried his hands shaking around his own burnt neck.

"Okay, I held her," he sobbed, "but just once, and we found the closet, but it was the Animagi—"

"It was their fault, wasn't it?" asked Voldemort softly.

"Yes—they—

"Crucio!" he interrupted, and when the boy collapsed, Voldemort Ennervated him. "Stand up," Voldemort ordered and the boy stood hesitantly on shaky legs. "When you lie," said Voldemort in a conversational tone, "You must do it well, or it could cost you your life. Avada Kadavra!"

The smell of burnt flesh and dark magic hung heavy in the air like a cloying perfume that was suffocating the guilty. Voldemort took a deep breath, steadying himself from the draining influence of the spell. That sound was the only sound in the room. It seemed as if no one else was breathing. He looked around at his circle, listening to their thoughts, their fears, their pitiful attempts to block him. Some disagreed with his action, but they were too steeped in fear to oppose him. Dead bodies always had that effect. Yes, some disagreed, but he had their undivided attention now. His unerring red eyes centered in on the prime offenders, and he Accioed the bunny from the corner before speaking in a whisper that was heard in every corner of the room.

"The Animagi he was talking about, come here." No one moved, but he felt the increased level of fear and turned towards them. "Don't hesitate," He spat, "because I already know who you are. You are broadcasting fear so far that Dumbledore in his big stone castle probably knows who you are." Owen, Millicent and Gavin all came forward albeit hesitantly.

"Tell me Millicent," he asked as he petted the unsuspecting rabbit in an almost kind way, "Is this the bunny you took from Wormtail?" He knew full well, that she as an animagus, recognized that He was not holding an animagus.

She looked to her co-conspirators. He didn't expect anything less. She was, after all, a woman—a girl really. It was natural that she would look to the males for guidance. Unfortunately, all they were thinking of was saving their own skins. She decided, wisely, to tell the complete truth, for all of them. "We were—bored, Master—" she began.

Obviously she needed more challenging work, he thought. He felt a bit of the tension begin to break in the Circle as Millicent spoke. It was always so when the guilty were found; the collective breath which said, "I'm safe for now." He turned his attention back to Millicent, not yet willing to subject her to his legilimency. She was guileless; her brain not much different than her cat animagus' brain. He didn't think she had the capacity to try to lie to him. Certainly, she didn't have the ability to succeed.

"And we just wanted to play with the bunny a bit." Millicent looked at her shoes. The fear creeping into her would not allow her to hold his gaze.

We weren't going to hurt it, thought Owen. He opened his mouth to speak, but decided to let Millicent finish it, and remained silent as Salazar turned his burning red gaze on the boy.

"We didn't think you'd mind," said Millicient, "but Worm—ah, Mr. Pettigrew wouldn't let us. He told us to get out, and he cursed Pritch. We wanted to get even, so Pritch and I came back around when he was practicing the speed of his Animagus change."

"What curse?" asked Voldemort, and immediately Owen Prichard cringed, Terrricula!, Voldemort realized before Owen named the spell.

"And you can't block that?" asked Voldemort, fixing him with his penetrating red stare.

Owen bit his lip. "It went through my Testudo," he said.

"I see. Continue Millicent."

"Pritch chased him and Gavin kidnapped the bunny, and dropped it to me."

The ferret and the hawk, Voldemort realized working together, hunting together. It would have pleased him if they weren't hunting his bunny.

Millicent swallowed, continuing softly, "Pettigrew kept chasing the hawk. Gavin was just the one with wings and talons though, Pritch did the diversion and I hid her, so we are all—all-equally guilty." The rest of her words came out in a rush, as if trying to get the words out before he cursed her. "We would have given her back sooner, but Mr. Pettigrew said he would tell you, and we would—be punished—and we wanted his-his-promise that he wouldn't squeal on us."

"Who warded her in?" asked Voldemort, and Millicent's thoughts jumped to Pritch. Voldemort looked at the boy expectantly.

"I did," said Owen. "But I was just trying to keep the bunny in, not keeping a wizard out."

"I see," said Voldemort. He said nothing else for a moment, letting their own fear eat at them. Finally he spoke, in a soft unyielding voice. "You—all of you—leave the Circle. You will await my pleasure, over there—" he gestured vaguely to a spot outside of the circle, and felt their panic escalate.

"B-but master," began Gavin, dropping to his knees.

Voldemort removed his mouth, and dropped the bunny into his hands.

"There!" Voldemort pointed back, and Gavin scrabbled backwards on his knees. They were out of the Circle. Their fear was so great he could almost touch it.

He turned away from the errant children and looked at the body of the boy he had just killed. The child was about fourteen, unremarkable brown hair and staring brown eyes. Voldemort levitated the body to each of the circle members in turn.

"It has been too long since I cleansed the ranks," he said. "When a child—A Child," he said with vehemence. "thinks he can lie to me, the blame must lie with the adults that allow such slackness. Yes, this child's death is my fault. Now, these children," he gestured to the Animagi, "know that to lie to me is a mistake, so his death serves a purpose. Yet some of you still attempt to lie to me." His eyes rested on each of the Death Eaters in turn, trying to discern who might be the spy. "Someone here continues to lie to me. Someone here spies on me." Who seemed more nervous than the others? Who would let their thoughts broadcast their guilt?

He paused the levitation of the body as the Death Eater it was in front of, suddenly sobbed. Regret and anger all over the man.

"Do you question me?" Voldemort asked impatiently.

"No," the man whispered, but his thoughts said otherwise. "He's—is—was--my son."

"Ah—" said Voldemort calmly. That explained the ragged emotion dripping from the man. "You should have taught him better. Crucio!"

When the sounds of the screams had died down, and Voldemort stood looking at that sobbing man, waiting patiently for him to get control of himself.. "Thank you," he breathed, his voice shaking. "Thank you, Master, for allowing me to live. I will serve you more faithfully. I swear. Thank you."

"Did I say I would spare your life?" asked Voldemort. "You are mistaken."

A stricken look passed over the man's face as Voldemort twirled his wand lazily between his fingers. "Avada Kadavra!"

He finished showing the boy's body to each of the Death Eaters, and then raised his voice to the Circle. "This one," he gestured to the boy's body. "Where is his mother?"

"Yorkshire," said Lucius. "With her daughter. She is perhaps eight or nine—"

"Bring them."

"Yes Master." Lucius disapparated.

He felt a hint of censure and he looked in the direction of the thought. His eyes met Virginia's across the circle. Immediately she dropped her eyes, attempting to mask her distaste of the previous spells, but he knew that she disagreed strongly with his handling of the situation. She had done several anti nausea spells and she was extremely pale, but she was also defiant. Somehow, she thought her friend had been saved.

"{Your friend is still hisssuss,}" said Voldemort.in parseltongue.

"{I know,}" she replied meekly, but her thoughts, defiant and arrogant continued, but Harry Potter saved her.

"{What do you know?}" he demanded, approaching her, and her mind closed like a trap. She was an Occlumens! He had only just now realized that she had the power to hide her thoughts from him. What had she hidden?

"{Nothing, Master}" she answered meekly. Nothing, Tom, she thought.

Why did she persist in calling him Tom in her thoughts? But he grasped her around the neck and shook her, ignoring Visha who hissed dangerously throughout the exchange. "{Kill. Bite. Devour. Sissshausss!)"

Ginny hissed, "(Be silent, Visha.)"

"{You are lying to me! Do you see what happens to liars?}" Voldemort hissed and flung her on the ground so that she stumbled into the boy's body, and fell in a crumpled heap against his legs. "(They die. Their whole family dies.}"

Ginny did not miss the threat, but if he didn't kill her yet; he wouldn't kill them. She looked up at him, oddly calm and said, still in parseltongue, "{Do you really want to risk killing the prophecy child, Master?}"

"{Mistress?}" hissed Visha anxiously.

"{It's Samara!}" He hissed. "{Not you.}" But her words calmed him, reminding him that she was the one who had to find his emerald.

"{Are you so sure--Master?}"

Her eyes were unrepentant for her insolence and her voicing of the word Master—Sissshausss—in parseltongue left the meaning open to interpretation—great one or hungry one."

"Crucio!" he said.

"Just the way to persuade her to your side," said Tom snidely. "Sometimes your lack of intelligence, Salazar, amazes me. It's a wonder you ever got to be the Dark Lord—I'd expect you to be repeating primary school—the school bully—"

Voldemort closed his hand on his wand and viciously cursed back Tom. The smell of searing flesh filled the room as the annoying voice in his head was silenced, but just before quiet fell, a bit of gray smoke escaped his wand.

The little prat thought that he could use the wand! Anger at Tom boiled anew inside of him.

"Want to kill me?" asked a tired voice in his head. "Smashing."

Voldemort gained control of himself and moved on. He had things he had to accomplish. If Dumbledore knew about the location of the Snow Castle, time was of the essence. He didn't have time to deal properly with either Virginia or Tom, who had gained a bit of power. He knew why. His stint into the Elementals had weakened him, and performing the Avada hadn't helped. He had to use his wand less and let the magic between them gain its natural equilibrium.

"It is not natural to keep me bound," said Tom, and Voldemort had too many things to do to silence him again. He moved down the circle, simply ignoring his nemesis.

"Marshall," he asked. "What news?"

"I've finished, Master. The restricted areas will open to us. I will need to assess the magic of everyone who is going with us. Final plans will have to be implemented at the site."

"But you are sure it will work?

"Yes, Master. I created the failsafe. I know how to get around it. I can't make the lift ignore us, but I can make a number of new employees with high level clearance. I still need to add your signature, Master, and the magical signature of the person who you've chosen to take the place of Madam Bones."

Voldemort nodded. "Won't it know I'm not the person I'm supposed to be?"

"Well, the lift would know," agreed Marshall, "But if all of the other plans work, no one's going to be actually checking the lift for names. They will be too busy with damage control."

"Good," said Voldemort. "Snape, Edgecomb and Umbridge will also need additional clearances. Did you get them?"

"Yes, Master. Have you decided who else will be with you in the meeting itself?"

"Yes. Didn't I tell you? Virginia Weasley. She will need clearance too." His red eyes met hers across the hall. He would need some sort of assurance that she wouldn't betray him.

"Yes, Master." Said Marshall.

A murmuring of descent was not actually audible, but Voldemort heard it nonetheless.

Voldemort turned back to Marshall. "Come to my chambers after supper tonight, and you can acquire my magical signature for your work."

"After supper?" said Marshall. The thought that screamed in the man's mind was Alone? He wants me to come alone?"

Their panic always amused him. It wasn't like he put them in any real danger or caused any permanent damage. Usually. He was always careful not to use any one of them too much. It was just pain after all. He rarely killed them unless they deserved it. He looked at the two bodies on the floor.

"Yes," said Voldemort calmly. "I believe we should discuss your daughter. Valeriana reminded me of her the other day."

"Yes, Master," said Marshall. His thoughts declaring, he shall never have Lauren. I will die first."

"Perhaps," said Voldemort, dragging a finger aside of Marshall's face. He turned aside abruptly. There would be time enough for him after supper.

"Edgecomb? The Floo?"

"Ready to shut down on your order," she answered. "The re-alignment Marshall and I will have to finish on site."

"Very good."

"Alvin, my son," said Voldemort, taking the boy's face in his hands. "You make me very proud. Lucius told me you found a way to set the dementors in their shadow form without actually releasing them from the box. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Master, in theory the spell says, I can place the dementors in their shadow form at various intervals and activate them from a central location. That means we have an added advantage of stealth. The shadows won't be seen and they won't set off the alarms until they are activated. It's a wonderful spell, but—" His thoughts betrayed his nervousness. "I'm not very good at it," he continued. "It's an ancient spell, and sometimes it gets away from me, and the dementors awaken too soon—and –and rather get away from me. It would be helpful if I could practice it without worrying about who might be about—"

"I see," said Voldemort. "It's a wise man who knows his limitations and works to improve. You shall have what you need. I believe the fourth floor is not well occupied. You may have the library and the adjacent corridor. Ward it to deny admittance—"

Voldemort heard snippets of complaints from those whose bedchambers were on that floor, but they would have to move. If the complaints continued very long, perhaps they could sleep in the snow, he thought.

"I'm not very good at wards," admitted Alvin hesitantly, his thoughts betraying a number of times when his dorm mates had broken down his wards exposing him and his current young lady to their ridicule.

What passed for a smile crossed Voldemort's face as he looked around the circle, studying his death eaters. "Walden, you do the ward," said Voldemort.

"What about apparition wards?" said Walden. "I can't do them alone."

Voldemort dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand, and raised his voice to include all of the circle. "The fourth floor is off limits," he said. "On pain of losing your soul."

"Anything else, Alvin?" he asked, but he knew there was not. Alvin's mind was completely open to him, not by choice, but open nonetheless. The boy was right; he was lousy at wards.

"No, Master."

"Alright. Timing," continued Voldemort, as He stalked around the Circle.

"When is the auspicious day?" asked Judson, and Voldemort turned eyes narrowing.

The man was entirely too curious. It wasn't natural. "Crucio!" he spat, and then reached forward to touch the man's quivering body. The flames were licking through the skin and bone, exploding like miniature fireworks in displays of hot color. His blood had reached a fever pitch and he began to scream, but Voldemort saw nothing that would declare the man a spy. Voldemort let him drop to the ground and continued.

"I was saying. Our timing must be perfect. When Alvin has set all the dementors in place, he will activate his Mark. Alvin, let them identify your magic. Gently now," Voldemort warned. "You will all have to endure several burns of the Mark. I don't want to sap your energy from this task. I only want to remind you of the time. Alvin."

Voldemort nodded, and Alvin touched His wand gently to his Dark Mark and closed his eyes against the swift sting of the burn. "Well done," Voldemort praised him, and pushing back the sleeve of his robe, Voldemort laid His hand over Alvin's Mark pouring pure pleasure into it from His magic as He released the excess Elemental magic from the crucios, the beauty of the hot fire blinding Alvin to all else. Alvin, got the largest dose, although some bled back through the Dark Mark. Alvin immediately sucked in his breath. His arms went slack and his eyes glazed like someone in a trance or drugged.

Voldemort enjoyed the quick blending of their magics and smiled. "I'm so proud of you, son," said Voldemort, and something in Voldemort's words brought Alvin out of the stupor. His thoughts flew to his real father, the previous holder of the box. Is my father alive? he wondered.

Voldemort frowned. Although he had spoken of Eldon Nott in the Circle, it was never within hearing distance of Alvin. He had been very grateful that Dumbledore had chosen to keep the boy in the dark about his little spell; otherwise he probably would have been obliged to try to rescue the wretch. Yes, he thought, Dumbledore was acting according to plan, telling the children too little, too late, once again. Unless Dumbledore had decided to tell Alvin after all—

"Where did you hear your father was alive?" Voldemort asked.

Lauren. The thought came immediately. "My father is dead," Alvin said aloud, confused by the question.

Voldemort moved on, wondering if Alvin was even aware in his state of ecstasy what he betrayed, but Voldemort resolved to bring Lauren Avery before him, and soon, as soon as this next task was completed. Sooner, if the sisters could accomplish the task without him.

"The Lestrange twins will accompany Alvin with Death Eaters escorting them on each level. Alvin will count one minute and then call the dementors back. This should open a path for our strongest Death Eaters."

"They are just children," murmured one of his death eaters.

"Crucio!" spat Voldemort, and the Death Eater dropped, screaming: Chauncey Malone. By the time Voldemort reached him, he had passed out. "Those of you who complain about the children, will find yourself replaced by a child." said Voldemort, as he put the point of his boot underneath the man's ribs and kicked, rolling the unconscious man out of the circle. "You have been warned, Chauncey."

Voldemort searched the circle for an appropriate child, and his eyes fell on the young Malfoy. Perfect, thought Voldemort. The boy craved power, let's see how he dealt with it. "Draco Malfoy," said Voldemort. "Come here." A moment of fear shot through the boy, as he tried to ascertain if he had done anything wrong.

"Ennervate!" said Voldemort, and as Chauncey dragged himself to his feet, Voldemort said, "Draco Malfoy will replace you in the front of the Circle." Voldemort paused, listening to who felt Draco did not belong here. Most angered where the Lestrange twins. Yes, they wanted the spot for themselves. Well, they would have a chance to move up in the circle soon enough. Voldemort looked at Chauncey." "You have the sole responsibility of finding my bunny. You have one week."

The only sound the man made was a terrified gasp. Voldemort didn't bother to touch the man. His fear was too predictable.

"You should start now. Get out."

"Yes, Master," he choked before he ran from the room.

Briefly, Voldemort put his attention on Draco Malfoy. He sensed a definite wariness and curiosity as to why he was chosen to move up in the Circle. "Let's see you earn your place," Voldemort told him calmly.

"Yes, Master. I will," said Draco.

Voldemort moved further around the Circle, continuing to explain. "Once the children have opened the path, the bulk of our forces will move. The rest of you have your assignments and floors. Narcissa and Valeriana will be on traffic control at the door and stairway. Since their own Apparation wards will still be up, the lift and the stairways will be the only method of escape. We have no reason to kill the purebloods, but we do want them down for at least an hour. The mudbloods you can kill. Swiftly. There will be no time for play. We can play later with the purebloods who are stubborn."



"Severus," said Voldemort, glancing thoughtfully back at the Animagi. Gavin lived here, but Millicent and Pritch were expected to return to Hogwarts. "I will be keeping two of your students tonight, Severus. You will make the appropriate excuses to their teachers at Hogwarts as to why they won't be at supper. I doubt they will want breakfast either."

"Yes, Master," Severus nodded.

Voldemort surveyed the circle, noting that Samara had failed to answer his invitation to join him in the circle. His eyes narrowed in fury, but he contained himself. There was nothing he could do to force her. Yet.

"You are dismissed," Voldemort said, dropping the Apparation wards and motioning the Circle away. In a flutter of movement, the group either Apparated or walked from his presence.

Voldemort turned his red eyes to the Animagi waiting outside the area of the circle. "What shall I do with you?" he asked rhetorically.

"Let us go?" pleaded several of their thoughts, but none of them spoke aloud.

"No, no, no. I can't let you go," Voldemort said blandly as he pulled Wormtail from his pocket and let him crawl over his hand from one to the other the way rats do. Voldemort wondered if his repeated Crucios had made the rat stupid. "If I let you go, that would cause chaos," he continued. "When a wizard does something so grievous as to allow someone who belongs to me to escape, they have to be punished. The question is should I let you live or not."

That sent the fear level rising. Voldemort smiled. "Well, before I decide," Voldemort continued, "I understand one of you cannot block Wormtail's Terricula. Is that correct?"

His eyes rested on Owen Pritchard. "I can block it," said Owen, "but I was surprised."

"I see," said Voldemort, dropping Wormtail on the floor and ordering him to transform back into a wizard. Wormtail did so. The man was a wreck, spit and blood drying on his robes. It was possible, thought Voldemort wrinkling his sensitive snake nose, that the man had lost control of his bladder. Probably during the last Crucio, sighed Voldemort. Wizards were so delicate these days. As he raised his wand, Wormtail flinched. "Pergo!" said Voldemort cleaning him up a bit.

"P-p-p-p-please," stammered Wormtail. "I raised you. W-w-w-w-when no one came. I came."

"Only out of fear, not loyalty," said Voldemort. "We've had this conversation before, Wormtail, and I don't like to repeat myself. This is the second one of my people you have lost, Wormtail. See what forgiving you the first did? It made you sloppy. I should have punished you more severely after you lost Crouch and you would have been more careful now."

"Y-y-y-y-you did p-p-p-punish me," said Wormtail.

"Not enough," said Voldemort, noting with satisfaction that the others heart rates rose accordingly. He could now clearly smell the sweat from each of them. Each had their own distinct smell of fear. He flicked his tongue, tasting, savoring.

"Can you still do a spell, do you think?" Voldemort asked.

"Y-y-y-yes," said Wormtail trying to stand steady.

"You did Terricula on this boy, and he couldn't block it. I wonder if he can block it now?" Voldemort paced around the little group, enjoying their fear. "If he can block it, I'll allow him to throw a spell at you. If he can't, well, he'll have to be punished, won't he? He can never learn if there is no incentive to win, can he?"

"N-n-n-n-o, Master," said Wormtail.

"Very good. Do it."

Wormtail closed his silver hand around his wand and threw the spell, "Terricula!" Even in his sorry state, the spell was strong enough to partially penetrate Owen's shield. Owen whimpered and threw off the spell.

"Crucio!" said Voldemort directing the spell at the barely recovered Owen Pritchard.

After a moment of screaming, Voldemort let up on the spell. "That was pathetic," said Voldemort. "Is that all the better you can block?"

"I can do better," said Owen. "But I just usually transform instead of blocking and—"

"Crucio! No excuses," said Voldemort. He again waited for the boy to recover himself "We should try that again," said Voldemort. "Oh, I forgot, that hand isn't really yours, is it Wormtail?"

"Master, n-n-o-o-o-!" he screamed as Voldemort called his magic back to himself, the silver hand dissolving into a molten mass. It dripped from Wormtail like hot wax and left in its place a bloody stump. Wormtail's screams filled the room and the hand leaked blood as if it had just been severed. Voldemort waited. It seemed to take a long time for the rat to get control of himself. Once his screams had died down to whimpers,

Voldemort said, "Now cast Terricula, Wormtail."

"I-I can't do it left handed," moaned Wormtail, sinking to the floor cradling his wounded arm.

"Pity," said Voldemort thoughtfully. "I hope you can block left handed. You cast the Terricula, then," he told Owen.

"No!" cried Wormtail.

Several Terriculas and Crucios later, Voldemort paused. "You know, this isn't fun at all. It's getting rather boring. Perhaps a contest—yes," he said. "That would be exciting, don't you think?"

No one answered, but once again, the fear level increased. "What would you like as the stakes?" he asked.

Still no one answered. That would not do. They needed to answer him. "Answer me," he said softly. He directed the Crucio randomly, hitting Millicent this time and her screams caused the hawk to come forward a step, but he caught himself and froze where he stood. They were all panting with fear and exertion. "What would you like as the stakes?" he asked again.

"No punishment," rasped Millicent, her voice nearly gone from the screaming.

"Very well," said Voldemort. "I will consider it. And now, I shall tell you the contest."

"Speed. Wits. Accuracy," said Voldemort excitedly. "You are all Animagi, we shall have a contest to see who is the most deadly. Yes," he said. "Change into your Animagi. Quickly. Quickly." Within seconds they had all changed except Voldemort. He picked up Wormtail and held him by the tail. "We shall have a contest to see who can catch Wormtail."

"Can we eat him?" asked Millicent already recovering from His crucio.

"Yes," said Voldemort, his eyes brightening with the prospect of the chase. He truly liked the girl, better than he liked Wormtail, actually. "If you catch him, you can eat him,"

Wormtail squeaked, and Nagini, protesting, slithered out of the corner, "{You said I could eat him.}"

"{Very well, Nagini, would you like the rabbit instead?}" Voldemort waved his hand at the still muted hawk and Accioed the bunny from his grasp.

"{Yes,}" Nagini agreed hastening forward, as Voldemort dropped the rabbit. Nagini immediately struck and happily began to swallow the bunny, which had been masquerading as Beatrice.

"Now," said Voldemort, "the one who catches Wormtail shall escape with no further punishments. Yes!" he said. "What an excellent game! Remember, don't waste time attacking each other; Wormtail is the goal. Voldemort hesitated a moment dropping the muting spell from Gavin and giving him back his mouth. All the while, Wormtail clawed to get loose. Oh, do stop your scratching Wormtail, I would imagine this should be a fairly quick death, and you knew you would die if you failed me again. I told you long ago—remember? Ready? Begin." He dropped the rat on the floor and Wormtail darted for a crack in the wall, while the ferret and cat scrabbled for position. The hawk rose directly into the air trying to get enough height for a good kill. Voldemort waited only a second watching the excitement, before saying, "Of course, if I catch him, you all lose."

He transformed into one of his snake Animagi and slithered after the rat.

ANSWERS TO REVIEWERS:

xMuted-Faithx: I just love your long involved reviews. I really look forward to them. I know what you mean about people who don't like Harry Potter. And Tom isn't going to kick Draco's ass anytime soon Tom doesn't even have a body—well ok, he has Ginny's—but really. LOL Hope this last chapter pleased your sense of the morbid, torture and all that. If you don't have enough, you might want to come and join our role play. It's a yahoo group, HarryPotterRP, but we barely have enough Gryffs to fill our Great Hall Chats. On the other hand, we can have a DE meeting at a moments notice. I see you were right there with the Durmstang boys questioning Draco under veritaserium. Honestly, "Adhere." Now you're stuck. Be glad I didn't sic my basilisks on you. Yes, Samara was pretty bitchy, but then don't we all know girls that let boyfriends run them and forget their loyalties. Can't have all the girls do the right thing you know.

Harpy: raining here today. Good day to read or write. Glad you are enjoying.

Tiamat Warcraft: Pineapples! Gotta go read Tiamat Warcraft's Angel of Secrets. Cool. Anyway, glad you enjoyed this chapter.

XMuted-Faithx: You are right; I NEVER SAID Snape was on the Light side. And I never said Snape was truthful. We know that Volde can't read him as easily as the others, but would he really have the guts to straight out lie to the Dark Lord? And if he did, would that place him in Gryffindor? Shivers. What an awful thought!

XMuted-Faithx: I took the aura test too at auracolors.com a while ago.

Here's my results.

Red 6, orange 7, magenta 10, yellow 6, Realistic.tan 0 Environmental tan 2, sensitive tan 2, abstract tan 5, Green 11, blue 5, Violet 11, lavender 6, crystal 3, indigo 9

I think it is probably about right. Green, Violet and Magenta. Harry, Samara, Draco (I couldn't see Samara saying Draco's aura was magenta in the beginning chapters) and Aldwin. LOL

You said "Wait, hold on-is he discriminating against women? I feel kind of surprised, but I shouldn't be. Voldemort/Slytherin is a racist and hates everyone who isn't a witch or a wizard." You also have to remember Salazar's time period, and even Tom's-Way before Women had rights of any kind. Glad you see the nuances in Snape.

Cara the Mord Sith: Don't worry. Harry with Cho? Sniggers. Don't count on it. I'm your fav adventure writer on fanfic? Oh how sweet.

Christina: Glad you liked the parseltongue in front of Draco. I thought it was ingenious and no one noticed. Sigh. Ginny, Samara and Draco as a Slyth version of the trio. LMAO. Well, maybe but if so, Ginny is more like Harry. She's the central character You wrote: "Pettigrew's already missing a finger; how about a match set?" You found satisfactory violence in this chapter, I hope?

The Elemental Sorceress: Glad you enjoyed.

Ennui deMorte: I know you love Gin's comment, "Not me" and one day soon perhaps Gin and Samara will work some of the kinks out of their friendship. It can't really happen at the Snow Castle though, can it. OH-oh. Did I just imply that they will be rescued? UM –er that depends upon your impression of "rescue". Maybe the girls will be doing the rescuing. Who knows. Well, I do, but I'm not telling. Confused yet?

Elbereth: Annoyed at Draco for underestimating Ginny? Well, he doesn't think much of the Weasley's and he's still judging her by her brother. Do you know people who judge you by your siblings actions. Drives you crazy right? Well—that's the point.

REMEMBER 15 REVIEWS GETS THE NEXT CHAPTER. If you review really fast, I might take pity on you and put it up faster. It's a really fun chapter and I can't wait for you to review it. Come and discuss at the Yahoo group. TheSeersTruth