After the class, Antonin swung by Misha's photo store to collect the photos from the other day, when he had accompanied Fabian Prewett all around muggle London to try out his new camera. He had placed the film rolls for development under a made-up name, and owing to his employee status he collected the negatives and prints without anyone ever knowing what was in the packet. When the shop was mostly deserted, he slipped the prints out from the envelope to look at them under the table.

Half the photos were rather badly taken, and those photos conspicuously featured him in some corner or the other, sometimes obscuring the famous landmark that was the whole point of the shoot. Mercifully, he was out of focus in most of these. At some point in the day he realised that Fabian was mostly attempting to take sneak photos of him so he grabbed the camera from Fabian and took the rest of the photos himself.

Now, these photos, the half that he had taken, they were clearly superior in composition. The subject was always in focus, the arrangement of various elements always pleasing, so that there was no pillar sprouting from someone's head. Owing to the incredible lenses of the camera, some of the photos were so sharp Antonin could count the freckles on Fabian if he wanted to. There was one photo, of Fabian by the fountain on Trafalgar Square that was particularly arresting. Fabian was softly lit by the early evening light, positioned around the line of the first third of the photograph, and the background was of the beige of the National Gallery, adorned with sparkling Christmas lights from the Norwegian tree blurred into round globules by the incomparable bokeh of the top quality lenses. The photo had one of Fabian's nice smiles, not his ugly smiles, where his cheeks were slightly rounded in a flattering way that made his chin, and therefore his face, seem a little thinner, more pixie-like than gormless goldfish.

Pleased with his photographic skill, Antonin tucked the photos back into the envelope. He wondered if he could destroy Fabian's half, the inferior half, and tell Fabian that they were damaged by an industrial accident at the film-processing centre.

When the shop had closed for the day and he was done tallying the cash register, Antonin headed back home to put the photos down, and then went out for a Wimpy burger, which morphed into two Wimpy burgers, and then he slipped into a deserted corner and made his way to the Riddle House, where he had deposited the rolls of parchment from the surprise test for marking.

He went through the tests one by one, clicking his tongue and shaking his head at how substandard the answers were. With red ink he marked the parchments full of gaudy flourishes of helpful suggestions, even going so far as to correct their atrocious grammar (or "there grammer" as some of these students would say).

When he was done marking he started to feel a tad peckish again, so he wandered down to the kitchen hoping the Dark Lord had some leftover food he could pinch. The Dark Lord was not fond of eating, for he saw it as a symbol of bodily weakness, of slavery to ceaseless needs that would become obsolete in the face of immortality. Of what he did eat the Dark Lord preferred to keep it raw and simple, in pure and unadulterated form. It was not, strictly speaking, particularly filling, and most of it was rather lacking in the taste department, but on occasion the Dark Lord snacked on raw fish imported from Japan, from a very particular eatery operated by an old acquaintance of the Dark Lord's, via an expensive Floo delivery that required stoking no-heat flames. He used to send Antonin to collect slabs of raw, lean tuna from Tokyo until recent technological advances made it possible to send the fish over via Floo without heat interference.

This raw fish was one thing Antonin had in common with the Dark Lord, but the rest of his food preferences were as diametrically opposed to the Dark Lord's philosophy as it could be, so he often had to make pretence of not eating at all or face questioning from the Dark Lord, who seemed to note his weight with intense scrutiny. "You're getting fat again," he would often tell Antonin. "If you indulge in any more food Nagini will find you fit for consumption."

Antonin dug around the larder and found the small saucer of wasabi he hid in the corner, behind the wheatgrass and acaï berries. The Dark Lord was not predisposed to additives on food, not even wasabi, but Junichiro provided them free with the fish. As he had guessed, there were some leftover slabs of fish on a plate on the ground. Presumably Nagini had better things to eat, for the basement harboured an endless colony of rats, so Antonin picked up the plate and began slathering the tuna in wasabi, which he liked very much for its nose-burning properties.

Whistling to himself, he picked up the reddish slab thick with wasabi and slipped it into his mouth. His teeth sank into the chewy, candy-like sweetness of the tuna bursting with the essence of the sea, and the wasabi rolled on his tongue and then, sharply, all the way up his nostrils.

"What are you whistling about?" A voice asked. "Wherefore this mirth and jollity?"

Antonin spun around in fright. "My lord," he called out, suddenly contrite. He tried his best to swallow the fish but the wasabi was searing his brain.

The Dark Lord regarded him with much disdain. As was his usual way, he commented that Antonin's waist seemed to be thickening. Was his willpower on the wane? Did he lose so much control he thought it appropriate to steal food from Nagini?

"Please forgive me, my Lord," he grovelled. "But I was so busy the whole day I had not yet eaten until just now..."

"My boy, in moments of weakness you must turn to meditation. Do you wish to succumb to mortal weakness and let hunger to be your master?"

"No, my lord. I have but one master, and that is you, my lord."

"Very good. What do you think of the younglings?"

"Like diamonds in the rough, my lord. In desperate need of polishing."

"Very well, continue these sessions until they are fit for service."

"Yes, my lord."

At this point Nagini slithered into the room. It seemed she had some urgent matter to communicate to the Dark Lord, so Antonin stood around uselessly, wistfully eyeing the remnants of tuna on the plate, hoping that Nagini had had her fill and would leave it alone.

"The Ministry have captured someone who could be of great importance. I need you to bring her here, alive."