It was unseasonably cold for late October, and the sharp wind howled through the desolate treetops. The remaining leaves on the tall maples gleamed dully in the moonlight as cloaked figures gathered in the thickly wooded forest.

"Lucius," said a large man with heavily-lidded eyes. He made a small bow.

"Goyle," came the demure return.

"I hear," said Goyle with a trace of a triumphant smile, "that your son has left us."

Lucius paused briefly. "I have no son."

"Gregory," Goyle said with an air of superiority, "has been accepted into the Dark Lord's service."

He forced the corner of his mouth into a point. "Let us hope," he said smoothly, "that Gregory has not inherited any of his father's ways, and will be disposed to face battle when the time comes?" With a slight incline of his head, he turned from Goyle and walked away.

Voldemort swept majestically into the clearing in robes of fog and mist, like he was wearing the vesture of a Dementor. "My loyal friends," he said, half-mockingly, his pointed teeth bared in a satiric smile. "You continue to please me with your allegiance. However--" His smile vanished into a concerned frown-- "there are those who, as of late, have... abandoned me." He looked at Lucius as he said this, and Lucius cast his gaze at the ground.

"I have... disposed of Lucius' wife," Voldemort continued smoothly, "and next, young Draco will be killed." His eyes glowed red, hungry at the prospect of death.

"But on the other hand, there are those of you who are unwaveringly loyal. Velos," he said, indicating a pale man of about thirty with piercing blue eyes, "has brought me a gift."

Peter Pettigrew, hunched and chattering to himself, unveiled a man who was tied to a tree, struggling in a menagerie of ropes.

Bellatrix's eyes flickered. "Ollivander?" she whispered, her voice low and hoarse.

His eyes widened. "Hag!" he spat. His hair stuck out in wayward shocks, white and frazzled. "Bat!"

She turned her wand on him.

"Not yet, Bellatrix!" Voldemort warned. "But if he doesn't speak-- you will get your chance."

Seemingly satisfied with this, she backed off, keeping a sharp eye on the old man.

"You should have known we would find you," Voldemort said evenly, circling Ollivander, who was visibly shaken. "You fake your own kidnapping, ransack your own shop... and then to be so idiotic as to go back to Hogsmeade..." He clucked his tongue. "Not only did Velos get to rid us of that ridiculous oaf, he brought you to me."

"Y-you won't get it," Ollivander said, nervous yet firm. "You do anything you want, but I won't tell you where it is."

Voldemort grinned, baring his teeth, and shot up to Ollivander's face. "Oh, I don't know about that. We can start nice; yes, we can start nice. But if you fight--"

Bellatrix's face broke out into a smile; she twirled her wand in her fingertips.

"Severus?" Voldemort said.

Snape flitted out of the darkness in full black robes and silver mask, grasping a tiny vial in his left hand. He jerked the cork out, threw it on the ground, forced Ollivander's mouth open, and dumped the liquid down his throat.

The smile that had been etched on Bellatrix's bony face vanished when she saw Snape appear from the shadows. "What is he doing here?" she demanded of the air. She turned to Voldemort. "My Lord, I thought--"

"Silence," he commanded, holding up a hand. "I trust Severus, Bellatrix."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Voldemort cut her off. "We have spoken. You do not need to know what we have spoken of-- but I trust him, and that should be good enough for you."

Snape sneered at her as he passed, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to kill him. The hate ran in her veins, penetrating her very being, but she turned away from him, back to Ollivander.

"Tell me," Voldemort said, turning his attention back to the wand-maker, "where is the wand?"

Ollivander said nothing.

"Where is the wand?" repeated Voldemort patiently.

He wriggled in his bounds, and his Dark Mark became visible beneath the rip in his long sleeves. "You'll have to do better than truth potion," he said condescendingly.

Voldemort smiled. "That we can. Bellatrix?"

A sadistic gleam in her eyes, she stepped up to Ollivander, taking time to choose her angle. "Crucio!" she shrieked. His knees buckled, but the bounds held him up; she cackled maniacally, savoring the old man's pain. Her eyes were telltale signs; she fed off the agony like it was nature's most nourishing meal.

"Stop," Voldemort commanded, and she did. He approached Ollivander. "Now," he said, in a liquidlike voice, "what have you to say about that wand?"

There was defiance in the old man's eyes as he stared back into the red ones of the Dark Lord. "Nothing," he grunted.

Voldemort nodded to Bellatrix.

"Crucio!" She held her left hand aloft, as if controlling the pain, her wand pointed as an instrument of precision at the twitching figure. Ollivander screamed, a wretched sound that pierced the night, and Voldemort cut her off yet again.

"Tell me where it is."

Ollivander retched. "No," he gasped. "I will not."

Voldemort nodded, as if communicating his great understanding. "Very well then." He wrapped his long, bony fingers around his wand, and held it to Ollivander's forehead. "One last chance, old man."

Ollivander swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ollivander hung limp, his hair ruffled by the breeze, and the Death Eaters turned away from him as though he were nothing but a squashed bug.

"And that," Voldemort said softly, "is what happens when my followers desert me."

The Death Eaters were hushed into silence. Everyone glanced at Lucius, who didn't seem to notice-- or care about-- the implications of what Voldemort had just said.

"I have bigger priorities," Voldemort began, "than hunting Lucius' son. One of you will do it for me."

Bellatrix had hunger in her eyes again. "Allow me, my Lord. I will make sure he pays dearly for his treason."

"No," Voldemort said flatly, and his eyes landed on Severus Snape. "I want you to do it."

Snape bowed his head. "Of course, my Lord."

"Do you know where to find him?"

"I brought him to a house in Hogsmeade after we escaped Hogwarts," Snape said easily. "He may yet be there. If not-- well, the boy's not very wise. He may try and return home to Malfoy Manor."

"In which case," Lucius snarled, "I will kill him myself."

Voldemort approached Lucius. "I have my own death to deliver," he said, "and the wand to find."

Lucius nodded. "I will oversee things," he replied. "And hopefully soon, we will be back in place at the Ministry."

Voldemort acknowledged the short, plump Death Eater standing next to them. "You have been away."

She made a deep bow. "You know I have been doing work for you, my Lord."

"It is important to have spies."

"I do my best." Another bow. "We are well-connected now. Scrimgeour is making changes. It is time to move ahead."

"Then go on with it." He backed up to address the entire group. "I must take my leave."

As Voldemort disappeared into thin air, Nagini and Pettigrew by his side, the female Death Eater turned to Lucius.

"Shame about Draco."

Lucius gave a careless shrug. "He had no sense of duty."

"He needed discipline."

"His mother saw to it that he got none."

She knew one thing that would provide comfort. "She's gone now."

A small, wicked grin slithered onto Lucius' lips. "Isn't that the beautiful truth?"