Chapter Six
Voldemort aimed his wand, muttered "averda kedavra" and watched as a green flash ripped the life from Felicity's body.
He then held the mirror steadily in his hand and concentrated. Slowly, silent words began to form on his lips. He felt a great pain, like someone ripping out his heart, course through him from his head to his feet. He continued to chant. A dark light – if such a thing exists – seemed to appear and explode then fall into the mirror.
Lord Voldemort fell to his knees gasping and trembling. Sweat dripped off him. He crawled over to the table and gulped more wine. The soothing red liquid restored him somewhat.
He took several deep breaths then stood up. He surveyed the room, thinking. Felicity was dead. Surely something which would go unnoticed. In the distance he heard movement – house elves? Possibly.
Voldemort ran his hand over the fine mirror, sensing how familiar it now seemed. He made up his mind. Without looking he aimed his wand at the fire and muttered a charm.
As he left the house he was faintly aware of the high screams of House-elves. Smiling to himself Voldemort strode out across the moor to where he had appeared the night before. Unlike then there was no rain. The sun was beginning to shine, reflecting his mood. The only thing that bothered him was how his charisma had seemed only to momentarily attract Felicity. He made a mental note to remember that his followers should be shown…was it love? Close enough. Should be shown love until he had instilled fear and loyalty in them.
Voldemort reached his desired place of departure and took one final look at Ravencroft. The smoke was rising high into the air, the flames standing out against the grey stone. Smiling Voldemort raised his wand to disaparate, eagerly anticipating his next venture with Avery along the Aberdeen-London line.