His Return
Ila landed with a thud!
That was the only noise she heard. Initially, she thought the crowd around her was so surprised that out of all the champions, it was her that had taken the Cup but when she lifted her head…she was nowhere near the Quidditch pitch. In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn't anywhere near the castle. She got up slowly, her wand close by her as she inspected the landscape. She seemed to be in a graveyard. There were headstones planted for miles like a macabre forest. A church stood far away. Any thought of safety in there was banished when she squinted to see all the windows boarded up. Vines and trees had snuck their way into the graveyard, entangling every headstone. The outlines of the mountains had disappeared. In its place was a lone house, sitting at the top of the hill.
Ila heard the cracking of a twig behind her. Turning around she could see a figure drawing nearer, zig-zagging between graves. She held out her wand in front of her.
"Who are you?"
The person remained quiet. She shouldn't be worried. Perhaps it was the groundskeeper, telling her that she was lost but he can take her back. Or maybe this was another challenge and he was to tell what would entail. He didn't look intimidating. He wasn't very tall. He didn't seem to have a wand on him. In fact, it seemed that he was cradling one of his arms. The only problem was, that he was wearing a hooded cloak that covered his face.
"Hello?" Ila asked once more as the gap between them was closing in. At this distance, she could hear the man's breathing. She could also see that it wasn't his arm that he was cradling but rather…a baby. Yet again, it was obscured by his robes.
"Is this part of the Task? Have I won?"
The man stopped walking abruptly at the sound of her voice. Ila's knuckles were turning white around her wand. Why did he stop?
"Depends on who you ask," a voice hissed in her ear. She looked at the man. She couldn't see if he was speaking or not. If the Cup was a portkey, maybe she could go back to school with it. Who cares if she doesn't finish this task? She doesn't even care about winning the damn thing? She looked around for it, seeing it was to the left of her. Just as she reached for the Cup to leave, Ila's scar exploded with pain. Her wand slipped out of her fingers as she reached for her scar. She scrunched up her face tight, hoping that would do something. She buckled under the pressure, her head hitting the floor. She felt like she was going to throw up.
The man in the robe placed whatever he had in his arms on the ground. He slowly walked up to Ila. Without her glasses and her head feeling as though it was going to burst, she was struggling to see what he was doing until she felt a sharp tug on her feet.
The man was pulling her away from the cup.
"NO!" she screamed. Forgetting about her head, she tried kicking at the man. She dug her nails into the ground, clawing her way back to the cup. But it was no use. The man was much stronger than her. The ground beneath her was dry soil. Every time she pulled away from the man, she slipped away.
"Get off me!"
In response, the man slammed her against one of the headstones. The man pulled Ila, tying tight cords around her, starting with her neck. Ila kicked the man again, but he dodged. It sounded like he was struggling. When he faced her again, with all her might, Ila kicked the man.
The man lost his balance and fell down, though he kept a tight grip on the cord. The hood fell down and revealed who he was.
"Wormtail!" Ila gasped. The man paid no attention to her and instead tied the cord tight around her knees and ankles to stop her from kicking again. "What the fuck have you done?"
Wormtail ignored her once more. Once he made sure the cords around were tight enough to stop any movement, he stepped away. He looked around, with a worried expression on his face.
"They're not here, they're not here, they're not here," Wormtail kept muttering.
"Wh-what are you – what – about…"
The edge of her vision was slowly filling up with black. It was getting harder to move. The pain was too much for her. Maybe it was a good thing if she goes unconscious. Her limbs were starting to slacken. Her limbs were starting to go numb.
"Don't let her go unconscious," another voice said. Wormtail walked back to Ila, before slapping her across the face with a resounding CRACK!
This woke her up immediately, though it only lasted momentarily. She stared at Wormtail. He kept shaking his head, as his eyes were fixed on something behind her. She tried to move, but the rope around her neck refused to move.
Though, it only took a few seconds before she could see what made Wormtail so annoyed.
"You're late," Wormtail said furiously. "Any second later and who knows what could've happened."
"Calm down Wormtail – I can't work with you fretting all the time…"
A blur of red emerged from either side of the headstone. Any form of tiredness Ila had felt in the last few minutes had disappeared completely. Her limbs tightened, and her eyes were more awake, blinking away the vignette that was ready to take her whole.
A group of women, no more than ten were all dressed in red cloaks. All bar one had their hoods up, their faces obscured. But Ila didn't need to see their faces to know who they were.
The Sisters of Heliopolis were staring at her.
Well, all barring one.
The Head of the Sisters was staring Wormtail down. She hadn't even glanced at Ila. She wasn't what Ila was expecting to look like. Though she had seen her in her dreams, she had never actually seen a picture of her. She was tall, much taller than both Ila and Wormtail combined. Her eyes pierced through Wormtail despite them being small. With long, blonde hair, Ila couldn't help but see a few similarities between her and Lauren Dawlish.
"It is not my fault that the people around cannot keep to their times," Wormtail said, with great difficulty. The Woman scoffed. "She's all yours."
The Woman finally looked up to Ila. She slowly walked to her, taking in every bit of her with each step. The rest of the group formed a circle around Ila. Any hope of an exit was slowly decaying. She could just about see the glow of the Cup hidden behind a bush. Around her, the women were throwing something white around her.
Salt.
They were making a salt circle.
"Hurry Wormtail," the woman said, staring at Ila. She smiled. "They're getting testy…"
Behind her, Ila could see Wormtail dragging something, large and heavy. Ila saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water – Ila could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron Ila had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.
The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself.
Wormtail tapped the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Instantly, the fire crackled beneath it. Ila could hear the occasional bubble pop as the water started to boil. After a few moments, however, it was burning up very quickly, with fiery sparks spurting out of the water. The steam was thickening. It swirled around Wormtail as if it had a life on its own. Ila could've sworn she saw the head of a snake emerge.
"You seem rather invested in what he's doing," the woman muttered in disgust. "Why not take a look at what we're doing?"
"I know who you are," Ila said, getting the attention of a few of the Sisters, who looked up, stopping their salt circle. The witches next to them would jab them in the rib, making them get back to work.
"Do you?" she asked tauntingly, raising a finger to Ila's cheek, and slowly dragging her nail down. "Who am I?"
"You're – you're the Sisters," Ila said, breathing in a hiss when the woman pressed too deeply on a pimple. She was pretty sure it was bleeding. The woman didn't show any emotion at what Ila had said. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the scar on her forehead.
"I know that – but who am I?" the woman asked.
To that, Ila had no answer. She could hear some of the Sisters snicker, but when Ila looked at them, they made no movement that they had been laughing.
"Don't mind them," the woman said, her eyes dragging down to hers. "They're rather immature…Julianna Quinn."
"It is ready, Master," Wormtail's voice pierced through their conversation. All the Sisters looked at Wormtail simultaneously, while Julianna's eyes were locked onto Ila's.
"Now ..." said the cold voice.
Wormtail walked over to the bundle of robes. He bent down. He hesitated slightly before opening the robes, revealing to everyone what was inside them.
"What the fuck!" she muttered, feeling her throat uncontrollably convulse.
"Little girls like you shouldn't be using language like that," Julianna said.
Julianna smiled before revealing a long piece of black cloth. She opened Ila's mouth and shoved the cloth in her mouth.
Wormtail had picked up what was the shape of a child in the foetal position, fragile, hairless, and scaly looking. It was as though the thing that been skinned alive, revealing all the muscles and blood it was made up of. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, unable to move away from its chest and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.
The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Ila saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron.
Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Ila heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.
Let it die, Ila pleaded, her scar burning almost past endurance, please…let it drown…
Somehow, it seemed that Julianna was seeing everything that was happening behind her as she moved away from Ila and turned to Wormtail.
The two nodded.
With that, all the Sisters moved together as one, towards the cauldron. Ila could see the circle of salt surrounding her. It was perfectly round, not one bit was out of place. The women pulled the cauldron so that it was now in front of Ila. She could see the reflection of the moon in the water but no sign of whatever that creature was. The Sister's completed the circle. They came around the cauldron and held hands. The Sisters and Lauren Dawlish began chanting something – in Latin perhaps and was getting progressively louder.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" Wormtail yelled over the women, who didn't acknowledge him.
The surface of the grave at Ila's feet cracked. Horrified, Ila watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.
Wormtail opened his mouth as if to say something before deciding against it. It was then did Julianna opened her eyes, staring at Wormtail. He started to whimper. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.
"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master. "
He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Ila closed her eyes, but she couldn't block out the screams from him. A few nearby birds flew away at the noise. A few moments later, Ila could hear the splash as the arm fell into the pot.
She slowly opened her eyes.
The women were still there, unfazed as their breathing got louder, almost turning into screaming while Julianna's eyes were fixed on Ila's once more. Wormtail took one look at his arm and threw up beside him. He fell to his knees, panting from the pain. The potion erupted into a reddish fire, rising a few metres.
Within the fire, yet again, Ila could see the head of a snake, sticking its tongue out to her before it disappeared.
"B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken .. . you will. . . resurrect your foe."
At the sound of his voice, did the women stop. They stopped moving. Julianna kept chanting, though it sounded different.
It was much quieter.
Somehow it scared Ila more.
She broke away from the cycle. She snatched the wand from a shaking Wormtail who was leaning against a headstone, cradling his arm in tears. She swayed with the wind as she walked to Ila. She already knew what Julianna wanted and there was nothing that she could. She bound too tightly.
Ila's arm flexed at the cool touch of the dagger. Rather than doing it quickly, Julianna took her time with it. She dug the point into her arm. Ila let out a muffled scream. Once it was deep enough, Julianna slowly tore through her skin. Ila couldn't breathe. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks, pooling at the cloth. She flexed her entire body, cramps already starting to form in her legs and feet.
A dribble of blood poured into a small vial that Julianna held. She watched in fascination. Once it was filled, Juliana dropped the knife at Ila's feet and turned back.
"Bring them in," Julianna instructed.
Five out of the ten girls left the circle, they stepped out of the salt ring and towards the large yew tree. Within a few moments, Ila saw the women carry…carry…
"Bring them in the middle."
The dead bodies of Bertha Jorkins, Lauren Dawlish and Lauren's Mother were all brought to the middle of the circle. Most of the bodies didn't have much skin left and yet Ila could still see the markings of the symbols carved into their muscles. Bright blue eyes were staring at Ila. With no eyelids present, it was like Ila was in a losing staring match. It was only when her eyes travel to the body's head, to see the slicked-back blonde hair did she realise who she staring at.
It was all too much for Ila, who felt the acidic rush of bile burst out of her mouth. The black cloth fell out of her mouth, followed by her breakfast and lunch.
When she felt another wave of nausea sweep past her, a bright white light blinded her. She covered her eyes, and she could hear the chants of the Sisters get louder and louder until they were screaming to the moon. She wasn't sure how long it lasted. One moment, she wanted everything to stop and the next, it did.
Wormtail fell to the floor, moving into the same position that creature once was while the Sisters moved back, watching the cauldron. It was simmering, sending diamond sparks in all directions.
And then it stopped.
"Don't let it live…please don't let it live…"
A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Ila, so that she couldn't see Wormtail or the Sisters or anything but vapour hanging in the air. ...
It's gone wrong, she thought. . . it's drowned. .. please . . . please let it be dead. ...
But then, through the mist in front of her, she saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.
The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Ila . . . and Ila stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake with slits for nostrils . . .
Lord Voldemort had risen again.
Voldemort stretched out his unnaturally pale back, his head facing the sky. He rolled out the muscles in his shoulders, down to his arms, stretching his fingertips. He inspected his long fingers, with yellow sharp nails attached. He cracked his neck side to side before his fingers began to roam his body, caressing his chest. He turned his head to the side, staring off at the yew tree. Ila hid her gasp as she saw his face for the first time. His eyes were completely red, fitting into tiny slits. His nose had disappeared, instead only having two slits for nostrils. All the Sisters seemed to be watching in some sort of awe at the wizard. No one had moved. The only sound there was, was Wormtail, whimpering at the side of the headstone. Like Ila, he too seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to move apart from the occasional spasm.
"Robe me," Voldemort uttered, holding his hands out to the side. It took a few moments for Wormtail to understand what he meant. He staggered his way over to the pile of robes. Julianna snatched it out of his hands before robing Voldemort herself.
"You look well my Lord," she purred, smoothing down any wrinkles that had formed.
"Do not flatter me," Voldemort replied. "Was it not you who saw my downfall?"
Julianna's eyes flickered to Ila's. "Not anymore."
"My Lord . . ." Wormtail choked, interrupting their conversation. His robes were covered in blood. Ila could even see the trail of blood from the headstone to the robes, "my Lord . . . you promised . . . you did promise ..."
"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said lazily, with Julianna stepping out of the way.
"Oh Master . . . ," Wormtail said. For the first time, Ila saw him smile. It was terrifying. "Thank you, Master ..."
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed. It was an eerie thing. It didn't sound real.
"The other arm, Wormtail."
Wormtail's smile dropped from his face, while Julianna's appeared.
"Master, please . . .please ..."
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and Ila saw something upon the skin there. Draco had shown her before in a broom cupboard. He had drawn it on her himself. How far away did that seem? Back then, it was just a symbol. It didn't mean anything. But seeing Voldemort inspecting it on Wormtail's arm, as he uncontrollably wept…she wished she had never seen the Dark Mark.
"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see ... now we shall know ..." He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.
The scar on Ila's forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and Ila saw that it had turned jet black. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.
"I wonder how many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered more to himself than to the Sisters and Wormtail, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
He began to pace up and down before Ila and Wormtail and the Sisters, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while.
After a minute or so, he stopped in front of Ila, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.
"Where you stand, Ila Potter, on the remains of my late father," he hissed softly, floating towards her. "A Muggle and a fool…reminds me of your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child...and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death..." Voldemort glanced behind the cauldron.
"Is it done?" he asked Julianna.
"No, my Lord," she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I have already explained – it cannot happen until she is released."
Voldemort turned back to Ila as if he hadn't heard what Julianna said.
"I wonder if you saw that house upon the hillside, Potter?" Voldemort asked.
Ila didn't know what to do. She hadn't looked in his direction since he faced her. She was unable to meet his eyes. She stared at Wormtail, who looked like he was in the blink of unconsciousness. "I'm asking you a question Potter," he said, a finger dangerously close to her jaw. "Answer it."
She wondered if she should. Would answering the question mean that she's letting Voldemort take the upper hand? Should she let him take it? Or should she continue defending her honour until her last dying breaths? No one told her what to do. Perhaps it would be a good idea to let him but –
It wasn't like Ila had a great plan on how to escape him. It was only moments before that she was ready to give up with the Sphinx. How on earth she was going to leave…
Though, the more she thought about the situation that she was in – even if she managed to get out these ropes, the Sisters and Voldemort were standing between her and her only escape home. She had no wand. Her arm was still bleeding out. Her head was pounding. She couldn't see properly.
It would be easier to stay here, wouldn't it? At least she wouldn't have to deal with Voldemort anymore.
Ila nodded her head.
"My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. ... He didn't like magic, my father . . ." Rather than staring at her, Voldemort was now staring at the grave that she was on. "He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . ." he spat out as if it was poison. He looked behind Ila's shoulder and smiled. "Listen to me, reliving family history . . ." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Ila! My true family returns. . . ."
The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. None had decided to move, instead, looking around where they were. They saw Wormtail on the floor, clutching his hands, and then to the Sisters, all of whom were so still, you could have mistaken them for one of the statues. Their eyes moved to the headstone that seemed to have someone tied to it…Ila Potter…Beside her, towering over her was the one wizard no man thought they would ever see again…
One of the Death Eaters had braved it, falling to his knees and crawling towards Voldemort. Voldemort watched expressionless at the man. The Death Eater began kissing the hem of his black robes.
"Master . . . Master " he murmured.
The rest of the Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up. They formed a smaller circle, encasing Voldemort, Ila, Wormtail and Julianna. The Sisters were behind, waiting and watching. There were a few gaps between the Death Eaters, as though they were waiting for more. But Voldemort didn't expect any more. The masked faces stared blankly at Voldemort, who slowly circled the group.
"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said quietly. "Thirteen years. . . thirteen years since last we met." All the Death Eaters stood where they were, as Voldemort looked at them, dragging a finger on their shoulders. "Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?" He leaned his head back and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.
"I smell guilt," he said, walking back to the middle of the circle. "There is a stench or guilt upon the air." A second shiver ran around the circle, as though each member of it longed, but did not dare to step back from him. "I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"
No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was on the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.
"And I answer myself," Voldemort whispered, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, as though what they did was nothing of their own actions and beliefs, but rather bewitchment and threats…And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?
And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort. . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"
At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them.
"Or perhaps they truly believed that I was defeated by a mere babe…" All the Death Eaters turned their heads to Ila, strapped to Voldemort's father's grave. "It is a disappointment to me ... I confess myself disappointed that my loyal followers, the ones that had marked themselves, the mark of my allegiance could think so…low of me…"
One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet.
"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all! Please, we won't - "
Voldemort raised his wand.
"Crucio!" he whispered.
Suddenly, the Death Eater let go of his feet and began writhing and shrieking; Ila was sure the sound must carry to the houses around. Voldemort twisted his wand, and the man screamed even louder. The rest of the Death Eaters looked anywhere but where the man was. It seemed to carry on for longer than what seemed necessary. Ila remembered what Draco had told her about His torture. 4 16 minute intervals of Crucio. He was bringing them to the edge of life and death. By the end of it, the man's screams were quietening down. It was then that Voldemort stopped.
The tortured Death Eater lay flat upon the ground. He couldn't even make any
"Get up, Avery," Voldemort said softly. "Stand up. Do you ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years ... I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"
He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.
"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Master," Wormtail moaned, "please. Master . . . please ..."
"Yet you helped return me to my body," Voldemort said coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me ... and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers... ."
Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist. Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.
"My Lord," he whispered. "Master ... it is beautiful. . . thank you... thank you. ..." He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.
"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," Voldemort said.
"No, my Lord . . . never, my Lord . . ." Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail's right.
"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius. . . . Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay. . . but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"
"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me -"
"I gave you many signs Lucius did I not? Was finding the body of that Squib not been enough?" Voldemort asked.
"N-no my Lord," Lucius said.
"What did you think it was, a birthday present?" Voldemort said, before laughing. Only Wormatil and Julianna laughed with him, while the rest of the Death Eaters looked down. "Tell me what you thought it was."
Lucius closed his eyes before saying, "I – we – we thought it was a joke of some sort," he hesitated before saying the next thing, "a…a bad joke that had gone out of hand."
Voldemort scoffed before looking up at Julianna. "A bad practical joke he says…well, I'm sure you would be happy to know that it was not my doing…but I gave another sign didn't I? This one was much clearer than before would you say?"
"I'm not sure what you mean My Lord – I did not see another - "
"You ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer didn't you?" Voldemort lazily said, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful service in the future."
"Of course, my Lord, of course. . . . You are merciful, thank you. ..." Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space - large enough for two people - that separated Malfoy and the next man.
"The Lestranges should stand here," Voldemort said quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. . . . When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honoured beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us ... they are our natural allies ... we will recall the banished giants ... I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear. ..."
He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.
"Macnair . . . destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide. ..." "Thank you, Master . . . thank you," murmured Macnair.
"And here" - Voldemort moved on to the two largest hooded figures - "we have Crabbe . . . you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"
They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.
"Yes, Master ..."
"We will, Master..."
"The same goes for you, Nott," said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Mr. Goyle's shadow.
"My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful -"
"That will do," Voldemort said.
He had reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.
"And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return ... he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever ... he will be killed, of course . . . and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already re-entered my service."
The Death Eaters stirred, and Ila saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks. "He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friend arrived here tonight. . . .
"Yes," Voldemort said, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Ila's direction once more. "Ila Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call her my guest of honour."
There was a silence.
Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask.
"Master, we crave to know ... we beg you to tell us ... how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how you managed to return to us. .. ."
"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," Voldemort said. "And it begins - and ends - with my young friend here."
He walked lazily over to stand next to Ila so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle.
"You know, of course, that they have called this girl my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Ila, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that she almost screamed in agony.
"You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill her. Her mother died in the attempt to save her - and unwittingly provided her with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. ... I could not touch the girl." Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Ila's cheek. "Her mother left upon her the traces of other sacrifices. . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch her now."
Ila felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch her and screamed as she thought her head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in her ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.
"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon me. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. . . but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know... I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked ... for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself... for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand. . . .
"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist. ... I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited. . . . Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me. . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body . . but I waited in vain. ..."
The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.
.Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Ila.
"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last... a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumoured I was hiding . . .But his journey to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic.
Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him... he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins became a veritable mine of information. She told me many things. . . but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."
Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless. "Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, there seemed to be yet another miracle," Voldemort glanced at Julianna. "I had never heard of the group before…the Sisters of Heliopolis – a group of women, specialised in necromancy…they knew where I had hidden for the past twelve years, they knew where I had been living at that point in time…in fact, they seemed to know a great deal about my past and my future…they offered me something. They would ask to help me. To regain my human body, to regain my power…though at first, I didn't trust them. I didn't know they were, I didn't even know what they could do. So of course, rather than blindly trust them, I asked to prove it…That is where their friend Ms Lauren Dawlish came to play," Voldemort said, breaking away from the circle to walk around the dead bodies.
"Apparently she had found out about them and was ready to tell the entire world who they were…in fact, she was there. The night of our meeting wasn't she Ms Quinn? I could sense it the moment she opened the door. What did they do?... They kept her alive as they carved symbols into her body before slitting her throat and draining her blood. They did the same with Bertha Jorkins, with her mother. They said that it was a part of an important ritual – not the one that revived me today. No, this ritual… is what will help me conquer death. There was another thing that I needed for this ritual." Voldemort looked at Ila as he slowly entered the circle once again.
"I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. The kings of the earth, the princes, the generals, the rich, the mighty, and everyone else, both slave and free, hid in caves and among the rocks of the mountains. They called to the mountains and the rocks, "Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who sits on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb!" Voldemort recited, his eyes peering into Ila's soul. She wanted to close her eyes but couldn't.
"The Lamb and the Lion. Who else could be my greatest enemy, yet my greatest protector? The one that has been predicted in aiding my downfall, yet giving me the one thing that made her greater than me? I could have her mother's lingering protecting reside in my veins too…" Voldemort was mere inches away from her face once again. "Who else could have such hatred in their veins, enough to make it their life mission to take me down? Perhaps many people could fit the description…but none could be my Lamb. Only you Ila. Do you know why?" he whispered to her. She looked away from him, staring at the tree ahead of her. She wanted this to end. She didn't want to be here – face Voldemort.
Where was her choice?
"Answer me Ila!" he said his tone hardening. She slowly shook her head. Voldemort grabbed her chin, pulling it so that she would face him. "I chose you because you are the only one who can truly help me. Not only will you break the seal that will release the Four, but you can also even summon one of them for me. You can summon Death."
"Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Don't worry," Voldemort said, "my plans won't be spoiled by you knowing. In fact, I want you to know that everything that will happen is all because of you. You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this girl could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Ila Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing her, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give her the chance. She will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Now untie her, Wormtail, and give her back her wand."