Chapter 141

Should the Lord or Lady rule?

Pettigrew used his jacket sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he finished dragging the last body from the meeting room. There had been ten Death Eaters, all of whom were conscripts, as Lady Voldemort had called them; Muggles who had been given enough magic to hunt down Potter and the so called rebels, but when Lestrange had returned from Godric's Hollow without the snake, Lord Voldemort had gotten angry.

Pettigrew had managed to get out of the room with Lestrange, but the others hadn't been lucky, and Lord Voldemort had killed them all in his fit of anger. What bothered Pettigrew most was the fact that he was bothered by the deaths. He understood needing more people fighting for them, but to kill indiscriminately didn't make sense. Lestrange, of course, had revelled in the deaths. She loved being in the presence of death, and after, she had spoken to Lord Voldemort, leaving the manor with him.

Malfoy Manor had been rebuilt when both Lord and Lady Voldemort had chosen it for their home, with a lot of protection spells on it, so Pettigrew had gotten comfortable there. He had been training himself, but at the same time, he still feared the darkness inside the manor.

Why did he fear it? He had helped create it, after all, which was, as he had been told, the reason he was still alive. But now Nagini was gone, dead for all he knew, Pettigrew also realised she had been more than a pet. He didn't understand it, but he knew he wasn't exactly someone who would be trusted with that information. It suited him, however, since he didn't need to focus on keeping secrets.

As he sat on his bed, he reached over and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It was one thing he still liked from the old days; made the way Lily Potter Sr. had taught him. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he still felt guilty over what he had done. James and Lily had befriended him, as had Sirius and Remus, and he had betrayed them. When he had been confronted by Remus and Sirius a few years earlier, he had tried to justify his working for Voldemort, but deep down, he knew there was no justification. Remus and Sirius had pointed out that they would have died to protect him, and he knew they had been telling the truth.

But he had long since chosen his path. After returning to Voldemort, he had been scared of so much, but he was forcing himself to become better, stronger, and braver. He knew he'd selected the path he was on, so he had to stay on it. Even if he wanted to abandon Voldemort, he knew he'd never last longer than a week.

As he finished his drink, he turned towards the bedroom door, hearing a knock on it. "Come on," Pettigrew called out.

The door opened, revealing Lady Voldemort. Pettigrew had been surprised when the young woman had been revealed, but he bowed to her immediately.

"My Lady," Pettigrew greeted. "How may I serve you?"

"You can listen, Peter," Lady Voldemort said, using his first name, which surprised him. Pettigrew hadn't been called that for some time; everyone either called him Wormtail or Pettigrew, but never Peter. "I wish to ask you a few questions."

"However I can help, I am happy to do so," Pettigrew replied.

"Good. You saw my… elder version's reaction to the news of his snake's disappearance. Why was he so angry?" Lady Voldemort asked. Peter looked at her, shaking his head.

"I… I… I don't know," Pettigrew replied. "I know he… he got the snake shortly after… I helped him return to the weak body… before his full return, but that's all I know."

"You weren't told anything else about it?" Lady Voldemort asked. Pettigrew shook his head; was this some kind of test?

"N… no, I wasn't," Pettigrew replied. "I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. There is nothing to be sorry for," Lady Voldemort replied, closing the door and sitting in a chair. "My… elder version, as I call him, is currently off with Bellatrix. I must confess, I do not understand why he makes some of the choices he does, or some of his actions. He created me last year, and yet I feel so different from him. I share his memories, but I…" she said, looking at her hands. "I am not him. I am…different from him."

"My Lady?" Pettigrew asked, confused. Was he dreaming? Was this actually happening?

"I have to follow my path, because the world needs me, but I feel… completely different to him. I don't understand why, but I do not feel the hatred that he feels," Lady Voldemort admitted.

"May I… ask a question?" Pettigrew asked. Lady Voldemort nodded.

"You may," she said.

"Is this a test, My Lady? I am… I am loyal, and will always be so," Pettigrew assured her.

"I believe you, and no, this is no test. I do not believe anyone else would understand this, no one would understand why I have my own doubts about my counterpart. I call him my elder self, but in truth, my memories are just the same as his, yet I see my own past differently than he does," Lady Voldemort said. "I will not speak to him about it because I know he will see it as weakness, and yet I can see things much clearer than he does."

"I… don't understand at all," Pettigrew confessed. "And I do not know who would understand."

"No, neither do I," Lady Voldemort agreed. "I did not expect you to understand, but merely to listen. I think… that is something I need; someone who will listen to me."

"I am… always…always happy to listen, my Lady," Pettigrew said, feeling confused, but he knew his duty.

"Thank you, Peter. Get some sleep; it's been a long day, and you've worked hard. If you are asked, this conversation never took place, especially if asked by my counterpart," Lady Voldemort said. Pettigrew nodded.

"I understand, my Lady. I will always be your loyal servant," Pettigrew promised. Lady Voldemort stood up, and left the room, leaving Pettigrew alone with his thoughts, and his confusion. He did fear that soon, he might have to choose between a Voldemort, but how could that happen? How could he choose? Something bad was happening, and he didn't know what. Not for the first time, he wished he could speak to Sirius and Remus; they were always smarter than him back at Hogwarts, and if anyone could figure it out, it would be them.

Lady Voldemort stood on the balcony of her room, alone, looking out at the massive garden, which was lit by the brightness of the moon. The ground was covered in snow, which made it look… beautiful.

She didn't understand why she felt so differently than her counterpart. He acted a lot more rashly than she did, and she wouldn't have taken some of the actions he had. Killing those ten conscripts… yes, they were muggles, but they had done nothing except been there, waiting for the order to locate and capture Potter. And yet Lord Voldemort had slaughtered them in his anger.

Why did that bother her so much? They were muggles; Wizard kind was better than they were, weren't they? She knew that to be true; the muggles still fought one another for the dumbest of reasons. They killed one another just because they could. What was the point of it all?

She had questioned, at one point, the need to dominate muggles, but it was clear that they couldn't rule themselves. They were doing a horrible job at it, and genuinely didn't care for one another. The UK Government, for instance, was always arguing with one another instead of doing what needed to be done. And when they took over the Ministry of Magic, Lady Voldemort had accepted Pius Thickness' suggestion to simply get Scrimgeour out of the building, since it would be easier with him gone. After all, they knew where Potter was going to be, and tracked Scrimgeour to the wedding.

That day had gone badly; most of the wedding guests had escaped, and the ones that had been captured had no information to give, so they were killed. There wasn't a point to keeping them around. Yet Lord Voldemort was still making mistakes.

Lady Voldemort had remembered the attack on the Ministry; she had managed to cover it up afterwards, using her best magic, but at the same time, it left her with questions. Where had Potter been? Why was Lord Voldemort so insistent on killing Potter? Could it even be done? She had to think of what they knew of the prophecy.

Lady Voldemort had begun to think back on everything her counterpart had done; would Potter even be a threat if her counterpart had even killed her parents? And why was she now willing to accept Potter as a woman?

She felt conflicted, and knew she needed answers, but how to get the answers? There wasn't anyone she really trusted she could open up to, though she knew Pettigrew would keep her secret. But who could she speak to about this? How could anyone understand?

She thought of how Potter had been saved when she was but a child. Her parent's sacrifice – Lady Voldemort knew Dumbledore had told Potter it had been her mother's sacrifice that had saved her, but her father had also sacrificed his life that night. Did his sacrifice mean nothing?

Wait… Lady Voldemort thought for a moment of that knowledge she had. Before the Horcrux that had created her was made, all the events of Lord Voldemort had been hers. When creating the Horcrux, the soul was split, but when the soul took over the Delacour girl, all the memories had been duplicated. She should have been a perfect duplicate, with all the memories, but in a younger, better body.

Yet whilst that had happened, she had been left with so many questions, and thoughts of her counterpart. He couldn't read her mind, and she couldn't read his; that skill was a part of her magical core which came with her soul fragment, and so she had the same power as the other.

So why did she feel this way? Why did she want to do things differently? Why did she feel… wait, no… could it be that simple?

Lady Voldemort's eyes widened as she made the connection. Of course she knew the story of her conception. Her mother had enchanted that Muggle, Tom Riddle Senior, and then given her…no, him… that name, Tom Riddle. What a ridiculous name to have.

But the enchantment… no, it hadn't been an enchantment. Finally, everything was starting to make sense to her. Why she disagreed with what her counterpart was doing, at least some of it, why she didn't feel anger…or fear towards Potter, and why she knew she was doing this for the right reasons.

It was her new body. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the face of Nicolette Delacour staring back at her. "It's you, isn't it?" she asked. "It's because it's your body, and not mine."

She wasn't going to get an answer. It was just a reflection, but now it all made sense. Her counterpart, and in a sense herself, had been conceived under the influence of a love potion, and if it had led to impregnation, it would need to be a strong one, which meant only one thing.

Amortentia. She/he had been conceived under the influence of Amortentia, and she remembered her potions lessons enough to know that anyone conceived under that potion would be unable to feel love. And it was true; until she had been created, she hadn't felt love. But she was in a new body, one conceived naturally, and so, able to love. She now knew what love felt like, what it was like to be loved, and adored, and to appreciate that feeling. She could feel what her counterpart couldn't feel.

That was why she was who she was. It was why she knew better, why she had different plans. Her counterpart hadn't figured it out, or he would have killed her. If he had even suspected that it was possible, she knew Lord Voldemort wouldn't have created her. But in his hubris, he had, and now here she was, a Dark Lady, powerful, able to love, and able to truly believe in what she was doing.

It was clear that muggles and wizarding kind couldn't lead themselves. They were always at war, and afraid of one another. She would create a peaceful world, a world where there would be obedience, no one to destroy one another, a world where muggles would be able to be given magic, and the world would be better for it.

But this also led to a problem; she knew that her counterpart wouldn't agree with her plans, so she would keep them secret for now. But she also began to make a new plan, one to take out her counterpart.

After all, a Dark Lady was always better than a Dark Lord.