The Ambitions Of Rebekah Potter

Chapter Eighty Six

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Rebekah was exhausted by lunch, going back in time to just before they went to the party and went to sleep. She didn't have the energy to get any of her work done.

She wanted to sleep alone, or as alone as one can get with Emperor engulfing her, Enyo nestled in the crevice of her bosom because the little Dragon found the heartbeat comforting, Fidele more or less wrapping himself around her scarred thigh because he knew she didn't like the sight of it. Hedwig wasn't a big fan of pile sleeping, referring to sleep on the nest egg thing that hung above the base of the bed.

Hogwarts was very accommodating to those who respected her.

Rebekah did not want to be forced into another dream vision, whatever it was called.

The room she appeared in was curtained and lit by only a single branch of candles. Unlike last time where she was Nagini, and much like the diary past, Rebekah was a version of herself that couldn't be seen.

Voldemort sat in the chair, bony white fingers dug into the leather arms as another man in black robes kneeled before him. Head down and back straight, he was probably a Death Eater.

"It seems like I have been badly advised," Voldemort said, voice cold and pulsing with contained anger. He tapped a finger absently, containing his boiling rage.

The man before him trembled and Voldemort found a certain satisfaction in it, the way he could force fear into someone by simply being angry. Rebekah didn't want that kind of power, she wanted to be feared because it would protect her. She didn't want those close to her fearing her anger, she wanted them to be amused by it. Unless she was angry at them, then they could be scared.

"Master, I crave your pardon…"

"I do not blame you, Rookwood." Voldemort tilted his head one way and the other, knowing he wasn't being watched. He stood from the chair, coming to stand before Rookwood and look down at him with a height that was unusual. "You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?"

Rookwood nodded frantically. "Yes, My Lord, yes… I used to work in the department"

"Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it."

"Bode could never have taken it, Master… Bode would have known he could not. . . . Undoubtedly that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse. . . ."

"Stand up, Rookwood,"

It took him almost falling before Rookwood could get up, face pockmarked and scars silver in the candle light. He didn't straight his back completely when he stood, staying in an almost bow to show respect before his master.

"You have done well to tell me this," Voldemort said tonelessly. "Very well. I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems… But no matter… We begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, Rookwood…"

"My Lord! Yes, My Lord!" Rookwood's voice was hoarse with relief at not getting anger aimed at him, or Voldemort's wand.

"I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me."

"Of course, My Lord, of course… Anything!"

Voldemort didn't let the disgust of his desperation show. "Very well… You may go. Send Avery to me."