An Unexpected Surprise
When Lord Voldemort and his companion, Quirrel, arrived to the place of auctioning, they were met with a very loud, noisy and bumbling crowd. People were walking every which way. Friends chatted amiably with each other while others took their time to look and invest in other stalls that had been set up around the centre stage, like bees attracted to honey. There were all sorts in the crowds, of all nationalities, and it seemed Voldemort definitely didn't look out of place.
The centre stage. This was where the Slave Trade sold their slaves every year. It wasn't overly large, only meant to fit a line of slaves at the end of the auctioning. It was made of richly furnished wood and circular, allowing a crowd of spectators to observe from all around. Off to the side was a small shed like building, where the owner of their new slave went to sign the papers and confirm ownership of the slave. Outside of that building sat Lord Dietrich and his associates, including his personal secretary, Gotz. They sat in a covered stall, surrounded by black clad bodyguards.
Dietrich found Voldemort and inclined his head slightly. Voldemort merely scowled and nodded to Quirrel. They quickly found a place under a tree and Voldemort sighed.
"I'm so excited! I've never been to an Auctioning before!" Quirrel said happily, jumping on the balls of his feet slightly, neck constantly circling, eyes taking in everything around him.
Voldemort rolled his eyes, irritated.
"Indeed."
"How do you bid for a slave?" Quirrel asked, looking intently at his Master.
"Quite simple. In an Auction this big, the people who are interested in bidding go to the stall next to where Dietrich and his men are and receive a large card with a number on from the Auctioneers assistants." He motioned to the stall, where, indeed, there was a smaller stall where a happy group of people were currently receiving their large white cards. Black, bold numbers had been printed on them.
"After you receive the card, you wait around the centre stage until the Auctioneer arrives and starts the Auction bidding. I'm sure you've been to other auctions, no?" Quirrel quickly nodded. "Then I'm sure you know the proceedings. You simply hold up your card to the price you like, if you win the bid, they put your number beside the slave on their list and take you away to that shed-like house where you sign the contracts…unless you want to wait around and see the other slaves." Quirrel happily nodded, with a look in his eye that said he was storing this new information in his memory.
"Well, we better get our cards!" Quirrel said happily, bounding off to the stall, Voldemort trailing behind in his wake and shaking his head slowly.
"Sir, you really sure they'll bid for it?" Gotz asked attentively.
"Positive, and I'm quite pleased with his followers enthusiasm." Dietrich replied, amused, as he eyed Quirrel, who was currently taking a card from the assistants.
"Is Lord Voldemort usually this moody, or is it just because of you?" Gotz asked well humouredly as they observed Voldemort rolling his eyes at Quirrel who seemed very energetic.
It seemed like many years before Dietrich finally answered. The Auctioneer was just about to get on stage and if possible, the crowd seemed louder.
"No…not always…there was I time when he would laugh freely…when he loved…" Dietrich seemed far away, revelling in old memories long past…
"Ze Auction 'as started," murmured his associate next him. He snapped out of his reverie and focused his attention to the stage.
"Welcome!" The Auctioneer said loudly over the hubbub of noise, instantly the noise hushed and all attention focused on the Auctioneer. He was a small man, greying hair, quite plump and seemed to have mismatched eyes. Nevertheless, he had the ability to command respect with just his voice, which seemed to slice through the air like a cudgel and hit people on the head.
"Welcome," he continued, slightly quieter but no less commanding, "to another year of excellent selling, I've been informed that this year has quite a lot in store for you, our best yet! So get your cards ready! We shall now start!" He turned slightly to one of his assistants behind him, who disappeared. Instantly, another assistant appeared with a slave beside him. He motioned the slave to stand centre stage.
The boy was quite tall, with vibrant red hair, a tanned face and strong build. He looked forward, eyes resting some feet above their heads, his stance was quite confident.
"Our first item. Good strong lad, very good for manual work, very fit. Our bidding shall start at 300DM, any takers?"
Several cards shot up. He carried on firing prices out, like gunshots and the cards still rose. The first bid finally ended on 1,950DM.
Slaves were continually led upstage. So far, all were a success and were being sold at very high prices. Dietrich watched as a brown haired girl with bright brown eyes was lead off, being sold for 2500DM. She was very intelligent, bought by a rich woman who instantly started mothering the slave, eagerly signing the papers.
He smiled slightly andcontinued to watch, knowing who would appear after the last two slaves.
"Wow…look at all those bids, and the slaves! You like this one?" He pointed at the mousy haired boy who was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, while two men seemed to be glaring at each other and constantly raising their cards.
Voldemort gave a long suffering sigh, haven been asked that question at least a dozen times before, now. "No. Quirrel, I'll tell you to raise that card when one of them interests me, all right?" Quirrel looked slightly crestfallen.
"But they're nearly all gone!" He motioned to the boy who was being leaded off stage to a man who looked triumphant and smirked at his competitor. "It's been at least an hour now…"
"There's still two more." Voldemort murmured, eyeing another Dark Lord who was scowling at him. Quirrel looked around and happily waved at the scowling man, whose frown deepened even further and turned away.
"Who was that?"
"Rival. We knew each other at the Dark Arts Institute, never really liked each other." Quirrel nodded sagely.
"Any other people you might know here?" Voldemort scowled.
"Several, and some I'd rather not meet." Quirrel laughed. Voldemort glared at him and he laughed even harder, unable to hold himself in.
Another slave was lead off, having sold for a high price. The Auctioneer rapped his hammer on his small desk and called for silence. The noise fell.
"Now, we have a little treat this year. A very talented young boy…" He motioned to his assistant. This part of the auction was what a lot of the spectators who weren't bidding came to see. Some years, Dietrich had exceptionally talented slaves, and these were the treats. They were like a trophy to anyone who managed to win the bid. An expectant silence fell over the crowd, stilling them. Even the air seemed to be holding a breath to see who would be lead out.
Slowly, the assistant appeared, trailing behind him a very small boy. His skin was exceptionally pale, hair was jet-black and his eyes were a bright emerald. He was wearing a simple white tunic. But that was not what had the crowd stunned.
It was the lightning shaped scar.
Several heads turned to look at Voldemort, who was helplessly gaping like a fish. Quirrel quietly murmured something to him, and he shut his mouth with a click, expression still firmly fixed to an expression of shock.
"We shall now start our bid at 1000DM."
They were a few murmurs of outcry at the high price. The noise rose slightly. It seemed like half the crowd of bidders had turned white, so many cards were raised. The small boy looked at Dietrich slightly panicky, but Dietrich smiled kindly and he calmed slightly. He stood very still as the bid was very quickly rose to 2000DM. It didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon.
"M-master…?" Quirrel murmured, keeping his eye on the excited crowd. The rival dark lord was smirking at them.
"Quirrel, do you…" Itseemed Voldemort was aware of the high price as well.
Quirrel quickly shook his head and snorted. "What am I on about? Of course I can afford this!" He raised his card and kept it there, while the number of cards slowly fell.
The price had already risen to 8000DM.
The rival dark lord smirked keeping his card raised.
Slowly the cards around them fell, until it was only the two of them. The bid was now at 15000DM.
"Give up, tramp!" The rival called mockingly. Quirrel rolled his eyes and kept his card in the air. The Auctioneer didn't miss a beat and carried on firing prices at them. The crowd watched on with amusement and interest, clearly wanting to know who would win. The verbal sparring was also quite a show.
"Now, now, you shouldn't talk about yourself like that, it's bad for your health!" Voldemort shot back. Quirrel sniggered and kept his card raised.
"Really? At least I had a life!"
"And what was that? In the back of a dump?"
"At least my mother didn't think I was so ugly she went and killed herself!" The crowd sucked in breath and turned to watch Voldemort's reaction.
His eyes darkened and he stabbed him with his death glare.
"Come here, ponce and say that to my face!"
Dietrich almost laughed; this was turning rather interesting. The Auctioneer still fired off prices seemingly unaware of the growing tenseness in the crowd.
"90,000DM gentlemen?" Both their attentions were drawn to the Auctioneer who had an eyebrow raised. The crowd went silent watching them.
Voldemort looked at Quirrel out of the corner of his eye. Quirrel still had his card raised and was looking at the Auctioneer with deep concentration. The rival faltered, mind racing. He gave a cry of frustration, realising he couldn't afford that sparingly and threw down his card. He spat at Voldemort and stalked off, his followers following.
Voldemort smirked and called after him, "tossers never win!" he laughed as the rival flipped him the birdie and disapparated. The crowd applauded and then slowly moved off, noise returning.
"Wow…master, I didn't know you knew so many swear words…"
"Comes from my background…" he turned to Quirrel, praise voiced loudly in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. "Well done Quirrel!" Quirrel's arm limply fell by his side.
"Indeed!" Dietrich appraised happily behind them. He nodded to Voldemort and smiled at them both.
"Come! There is a lot we must do!" Still in high spirits they followed Dietrich to the stall where they were to affirm the ownership of their new slave.
Wow, this chapter was massive! Well compared to other chapters…yes yes; I hope I've explained a lot in this, Quirrel's such a sweetheart, no? I had to end the chappie there, sorry guys; otherwise this chapter would be like one very long essay O.o
Thankies for all the reviews! They're what push me to carry on writing! I'm sorry for the really long wait…but I'm a bit of a procrastinator…I won't write unless I have some inspiration for me to write on, otherwise it sounds strained…
DM is the Deutshmark sorry if I spelt that wrong ; I looked it up and found that germany only converted to the euro in 1 February 2001. Also, magical Germany goes by the Muggle currency :) They're a little more lax with the two communities:D
