Memory's Prisoner

Chapter 11: Little Hangleton

"Holy shit," George whispered as they were surrounded by the robed figures. They had forgotten they were in a memory, dread creeping up their spines and stealing their voices.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years. . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench or guilt upon the air. I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke.

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him.

Draco froze.

"I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius. . . . Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay. . . but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert," came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me -"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" said Voldemort lazily, and Mr. Malfoy stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course. . . . You are merciful, thank you. ..."

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space - large enough for two people - that separated Malfoy and the next man. "The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. . . . When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us ... they are our natural allies ... we will recall the banished giants ... I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all fear. ..." He walked on.

A grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry's direction.

"Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

There was silence.

"I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by lucky chance. I am now going to prove my power by killing him in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger," he whispered. "Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand after untying him.

"You have been taught how to duel. Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was. . . . White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life - And then it stopped.