𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ☆ 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑛 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟

𝑌𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅 ☆ 18

The pain was instantaneous. Rosalyn's scar hurt more than every part of her body broken. She cried out, wincing and blinking away the tears that came to her eyes, writhing about, trying to escape the status's strong grip on her.

Voldemort, meanwhile, payed no attention to her. He walked slowly towards his servant, shriveled upon the ground.

"My wand, Wormtail," He spoke in a low hiss, showing no mercy. He didn't care about Wormtail, he didn't care about anyone.

How can someone like this have followers? Rosalyn asked herself again and again. How can someone like this be liked by people?

But she knew the answer. Fear. Fear for Voldemort's supporters, hope for his fighters.

Anyway, Wormtail, his hand shaking, handed Voldemort a white, spindly wand. The Dark Lord held his long lost wand in hand and revelled in his success.

"Now your arm," Voldemort told Wormtail.

"M-m-m-master, th-thank you!" Wormtail cried, holding out his right arm, the one with the missing bit of flesh.

"Your other arm, Wormtail," Voldemort said, and Wormtail held out his left arm. What's so special about that? Rosalyn thought.

But she soon found out. Branded black into Wormtail's left forearm was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. The dark mark.

But it was slightly faded, not at its full strength, Rosalyn thought.

But then Voldemort held Wormtail's arm in his hand and pressed the mark with the tip of his wand. It went black immediately.

Voldemort gasped and looked to the sky, so Rosalyn did as well. And she saw it. Them. Shoots of black smoke were coming through the clouds, rocketing towards them in the graveyard. When they reached the ground, the death eaters materialised.

Rosalyn knew they were death eaters before they even set foot on the grass. Because of what she had seen a few weeks previously.

Karkaroff and Snape in the cupboard, Karkaroff had his left arm extended. I'm so stupid, Rosalyn thought, all that rubbish about "have you got a scar too?" why didn't I just realise...

"Welcome, my friends," She was drawn back to real life by Voldemort. He spoke to his followers with dignity. "Thirteen years, it's been, and yet, here you stand before me, as though it was only yesterday.

"I confess myself, disappointed," Voldemort spoke on, his voice now cold and high. "For not one of you tried to find me. Crabbe!" He pulled off the mask of a man that looked all to like his son.

"Macnair!" That was Buckbeak's executioner...

"Goyle!" Another familiar face...

He removed more masks off people that Rosalyn didn't know, then he came to. "Not even you... Lucius."

He pulled Malfoy Senior's mask off, and the pompous platinum blonde hair coward was revealed. "My Lord, if I detected any sign of your return then I would hasten to your side-"

"There were signs, my slippery friend," Voldemort hissed, angrier that Lucius would dare defy him. "And more than a splash-"

"I assure you, My Lord," Lucius said quietly. "I had never renounced the old ways and I have been obliged to your ways ever since- your absence. That is my true mask."

Wormtail chose this moment to hold up his left arm and shout. "I returned!"

Rosalyn was about to tell something out of hate for the stinking coward down there, but Voldemort did the job for her.