The Death Eaters

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Katrina's POV

Voldemort looked away from me and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry and I again, hissing.

In the back of my mind, I noticed how the snake's hissing seemed menacing when it circled Harry, but switched and seemed to whisper salaciously of power and control whenever it neared me.

Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry and I were tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry and I, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.
"My Lord..." he choked, "my did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh Master...thank you, Master..."

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.
"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please...please..."

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and I saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it...and now, we shall we shall know..."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

The scar on my collarbone seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark, and I saw that it had turned jet black.

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down before Harry, Wormtail, and I eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry and I again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.

"You stand, my child, upon the remains of my late father...your grandfather; I suppose," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool...very like you and Potter's dear mothers. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mothers died to defend you as children...and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death..."

The pain in my collarbone was so intense that I could barely focus on what Voldemort was saying to Harry and I, otherwise I would have been even more confused than I already was. He seemed to be implying that we were related but that was absurd. Sirius was my father. This was just ludicrous ramblings of a man crazed with dark power and I was doing my best to not black out from the pain I was feeling.

Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass.

"You see that house upon the hillside, child? My father lived there. My mother; your grandmother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was...He didn't like magic, my father...

Katrina & Harry (Books 1-7) *Revised*Where stories live. Discover now