Chapter 35
King's Cross
Lord Voldemort was lying on the floor. It was not a true floor, as such. It was made of a cloudy vapour. The Dark Lord blinked. The same cloudy vapour was everywhere around him. Groaning ever so faintly, he stood up. Looking around, he could see that he was alone. His Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen. His reptilian eyes frantically scanned his surroundings for any sign of Harry Potter, the boy whom he had murdered mere moments ago. The boy was not there. He was truly alone.
He took a step forward, and objects began to take shape from the formless vapour. He took another step. And then another. And another. There was a bench in front of him. He walked over to it and sat down. This strange experience was trying his patience. He did not want to be here. He had finally destroyed the one wizard who could have stopped him. He had a war to win. He did not have time to sit on a bench. He needed to leave. He needed his wand.
As Voldemort reached into his robes to search for the Elder wand, a slow greasy voice startled him.
"The wand still isn't yours, you know," said Severus Snape snidely, "it never was mine."
"Severus!" Voldemort exclaimed as the former headmaster of Hogwarts walked towards him, his dark cloak billowing in the wind. But there was no wind. Still, the Dark Lord could not care less about the existence of wind. Severus Snape, whom Nagini had killed, was standing in front of him. "But you're dead!"
"Don't remind me," snarled Snape.
"But if you're here," Voldemort grew impatient, "and I'm here… But I can't be dead. I am Lord Voldemort. I cannot die."
"You're still alive," Snape calmly sat down next to Voldemort on the bench. "Well, if whatever it is that you have can be called a life."
"Where are we exactly?" Voldemort asked irascibly.
"I was going to ask you that," said Snape, looking around. "Where would you say that we are?"
Voldemort suddenly found that he recognised the place. It had been a long time since he was here last, but it was unmistakable. "It looks like King's Cross Station," he answered, "except a lot cleaner than I remember it."
"Oh yes, of course," Snape remarked casually, "they've hired a new janitorial squad from Poland. The station's spotless now."
Quickly losing interest in the current topic of conversation, Voldemort prompted Snape, "You say that the wand isn't mine. Why?"
"I'm not going to tell you," Snape shook his greasy head. "I only wanted you to know that killing me was pointless."
The Dark Lord was infuriated. He would not stand for this. He had wasted so much of his life trying to kill one single pathetic boy wizard. He did not need Snape to taunt him posthumously. "I have to go back," he announced with finality.
"That is up to you," Snape stood up and began to walk away. "We are in King's Cross, you say. If you decided not to go back, you should be able to board a train."
"I am the heir of Slytherin," Voldemort dismissed the idea, "I do not take public transport."
Snape continued to walk, letting his black cloak billow in the non-existent wind.
"One last thing, Severus," Voldemort called out to his former servant, "is this real or has this been happening inside my head?"
Snape stopped and turned around, whirling his cloak dramatically. "Of course it is happening inside your head, you insane mass-murdering wretch," his voice rang loudly across the station, which was now dissolving back into the cloudy vapour.