𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃¹𝜴𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

He paced between the gravestones, Lyra held her breath as he stopped next to the one Cedric was crouched behind.

"But now! My real family returns!" His eyes gleamed scarlet as cloaked figures apparated into the yard. Voldemort stood silently, observing them.

One fell to his knees, crawling forward to kiss the hem of Voldemorts black robes.

"Master-Master," he murmured. The death eaters behind him did the same.

Each falling to their knees and kissing their master's robes.

They formed a semicircle around the graves, a twitch wormtail, and Voldemort himself. Yet there were gaps in the circle, as if people were missing.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort said softly. "Thirteen years, thirteen years since we have last gathered. You answer my call as if it were yesterday, we are still united under one dark mark, then! Or are we?"

He drew back, and inhaled deeply from his slit like nostrils, "I smell guilt," he taunted quietly.

A shiver ran throughout the group, each member wound tightly, as if ready to flee, but to scared to really do it.

"You all have arrived so promptly, with your powers intact no less! So I ask myself, why this band of wizards never came to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke, no one moved, except for Wormtail, who was sobbing still, over his bleeding arm.

"And I answer myself," he continued, "they must believe me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemy and pleaded innocence and ignorance. It is a disappointment, I confess myself disappointed."

And then one of the robed men flung themself at Lord Voldemorts feet,

"Master!" He cried, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh, "Crucio!" He cried, and for the third time that night, shrieks of pain filled the air. The death eater on the ground writhed in pain, exactly as Lyra had done, and Harry found himself wishing the houses around them would hear, and police would come.

Voldemort lifted the curse, "get up Avery," he whispered, "stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years, I waited. I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Pettigrew here has paid his debts haven't you Wormtail?"

Lyra froze, Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew, the man her father supposedly 'murdered', yet here he was, living proof of her father's innocence. She watched, brows furrowed as Voldemort glanced down at the sobbing figure on the ground.

"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?" Lyra thought she would be sick, this man was a mortal, how could he be so sick and twisted?

"Yes Master," Wormtail wailed, left hand clutching the bloody stump of his former right hand. "Please master, please-"

"Yet you helped me return to my body," Voldemort said, watching him sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me, and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers."

So we're talking in third person now? Lyra's mind was whirling, this man, if he could even be called that, was insane, clinically insane. Her jaw dropped as he raise his wand, counjouring a silver mist, that formed a solid hand, attaching itself to the sobbing mass's hand.

Wormtail's blubbering stopped immediately, he let out a harsh breath, raising the hand toward his face, examining it.

"My Lord-" he whispered, "Master it's beautiful, thank you, thank you." He scrambled forward and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.